Hyposprays & Incense
by ScarletLycan
Summary: A telepath is on the Enterprise, but why did he go after Mr. Spock? Meanwhile the Commander and CMO McCoy are dealing with some denial. Slow-building-ish Spock/McCoy. Slash, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: A telepath is on the Enterprise, but why did he go after Mr. Spock? Meanwhile the Commander and CMO McCoy are dealing with some denial. Slow-building-ish Spock/McCoy Slash, obviously.**

**A/N: I want to punch the computer, I really do. I save it and everything goes into **_**italics**_**, and then I try and change **_**that,**_** and it all just somehow **_**vanishes**_**. Gr!**

**Er, sorry.**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Star Trek, characters, etc. etc.**

* * *

**Telepath**

* * *

The crew in the rec. room watched the exchange of the Doctor and Vulcan with evident amusement, mingled perhaps with some small exasperation. One or two people rolled their eyes.

"Even _you_ can't tell me that you didn't find those Orions a little 'distracting', Spock." McCoy said, shaking his head in disbelief at the Vulcan's claim. The Enterprise had just finished transporting several Orions to dicuss a treaty, and the stress on the crew had been... considerable.

"No more distracting, Doctor, than any others who have been aboard this ship."

"You felt _nothing_."

"If I ever lose my physical senses, Doctor, be assured that I will report to Sickbay immediately."

A few snorts. McCoy grimaced. "You know very well - "

"Bones, give it up," Kirk said, chuckling as he came up from behind. "Up for a game of chess, Spock?"

"My apologies, Captain, but I do have some paperwork to complete, if the Doctor has nothing relevant to discuss." McCoy just scowled slightly. "If you will excuse me?"

* * *

Spock returned to his quarters, musing as he went to McCoy's meaning. He never could comprehend McCoy's anger over his lack of emotion. Furthermore, Spock certainly had not seen McCoy himself taking any amount of interest in the Orions, despite his words, which had (though he would not admit it outside his most private thoughts) _pleased_ Spock. Though he did not know quite _why_ this pleased him as it did. He certainly would not have been pleased if the _Captain_ had not reacted to their presence, if very surprised. Something to think on.

He entered, and made quick work of his paperwork. It was 1943 hours; he would meditate briefly, then perhaps practice his lyre, he thought, picking it up contemplatively and then setting it aside. He had been quite neglectful of it lately.

He ordered water from a small replicator in his room, sipping at it. It tasted strange - perhaps the machine was malfunctioning. He blinked, feeling a yawn rise in him. He was strangely tired. He picked up his lyre again and sat slowly, picking at it almost distractedly. It took him a moment to process the hand wrapping around his throat.

He spun, and there was a black-gray blur, and suddenly he was falling, tumbling on the ground. The room spun, and suddenly he was blind. His mind fogged, dull and slow, his panic receding until it flared only faintly in the back of his mind. His head was being lifted by something - someone? - and there were sounds, words maybe, but he could not make them out.

Something was touching his face, and he knew without knowing why that this was _wrongbaddanger_ but could do nothing. Suddenly there was no need to think of the physical - the attacker was in his mind.

He struggled against the alien presence, but it's voice was thunderous in his mind, painful.

_"Shhhh..."_ It hissed, almost tenderly. _"Tell me of your home, your mother, your father, your family..."_

He resisted, shielding his mind weakly more from instinct, unable to think coherently, but his meek defences were thrust aside. The presence was stabbing into his mind, stripping him of control, and with his body weak he was unable even to scream - if he had been able, he might have.

The stabbing stopped, though the pain faded only a little. _"Do not resist me."_ The thing was perversely pleased at the opportunity to harm him. _"Tell me."_

It reached into his mind, and suddenly it was streaming before his eyes, his father, cold and kind, his mother, soft and hard, human but cool and logical, his brother Sybok, exiled, a cause of regret, sorrow, T'Pau and all he thought of with her, the council and -

But that was not for outsiders, they could not know, never know that, it was _secrethiddenshhh!_ and he struggled anew, then gasped and arched his back as flame burst from his very _bones _-

_"You dare!"_

And he was screaming again, or trying to; he was barely aware now, but he felt hot tear-trails on his cheeks once the pain faded some, a wholly alien feeling, and faintly it said; _"Kirk, tell me of Captain James Kirk..."_

He was struggling, but his barriers were swept away, and in moments it swept through his mind, _tearing_ through his mind, lingering over each memory as he writhed. Finally the assault lessened, the unbelievable pain reducing...

It spoke again, and it's words were almost fond. _"There now, was that so terrible? Good-bye, for now, and here is a little gift, just so you won't forget me, you understand..."_

And his mind spun, dark and twisting and _painconfusionpanic_ and then as it all crescendoed exploded into silence.

* * *

Captain Kirk glanced around as he strolled onto the bridge exactly four minutes before his shift officially began, at 0400 hours, yawning slightly as the Delta-Shift officer saluted and left. The Delta-Shift officer at Science, Lieutenant Talin, flashed him a smile. Sulu came in right behind him and Chekov was already situated. Uhura came in two minutes later, with an ensign with a report for him read. Paperwork, wonderful. And they were just doing scans of this system until different orders came in, too - likely wouldn't be a bit of excitement for a good week or two. Supressing a sigh, he took the padd and looked it over.

Some ten minutes later he was finished, sending off the ensign. He glanced around the bridge, then took a double-take.

Talin was still there.

And looking a little surpised, himself, as he worked. He'd never yet had to stay a second past the end of his shift - Mr. Spock was always early or, amusingly enough, _exactly _on time. Never late.

Unless there was an emergency. Looked like he might have that excitement after all.

Sitting up straighter, Kirk tapped a button on the arm of his chair. "Captain to Commander Spock."

Sulu glanced back with surprise, and the half-dozing Uhura took a double-take at Science, too.

No answer.

"Captain to Commander Spock!"

Chekov glanced back worriedly. Kirk stood.

"Uhura, you have the con."

* * *

"Spock!" Kirk got a few odd glances from crewman who walked past, but ignored them. What was up with Spock now? The light on the door meant that he was in his quarters, there was no denying that.

"Spock!"

No response, again. Frustrated; "Computer, Captain's override Alpha One, Three, Three, Two."

"Voice and code verified."

The door opened.

The lights were out. "Computer, lights on fifty percent." He frowned, his eyes zeroing in on Spock's bed. The sheets were gone, the bed upset. Spock's lyre was on the floor, looking abandoned.

"Spock?"

He glanced around, and even up, as though expecting the Vulcan to jump down from the ceiling - or hoping he would - and then approached the bed. He looked over it and stumbled back.

Glazed, unseeing eyes from a too-pale face, hanging off a limp neck, green blood trickling from his mouth -

_He's dead, good God, he's dead -_

He stumbled forward, back, forward, a strangled sound rising from him, then decisively bolted for the comm nearby, his usual calm command of a situation utterly absent. "Captain to Medical, Emergency team in Spock's quarter's _now!"_

He heard a response through the blood rushing through his ears, stumbling back, falling beside his friend, feeling clumsily at his neck even as his eyes burned.

...

...

_No..._

_..._

_Thump_

Kirk sagged against the side of the bed, a breath rushing from him in relief. Alive, alive, he chanted like a mantra, pale as a corpse and barely breathing and _what's with his eyes _but he's _alive... _

* * *

McCoy could not figure out what was wrong with the Vulcan. He seemed to have bit his tongue, explaining the blood in his mouth, but there was no other sign of injury. There was increased brain activity, suspiciously high, and quite a bit of adrenaline running through him, but other than that...

He narrowed his eyes. Wait... Was that... Had he been drugged? As in, attacked? On the Enterprise, with no one but the crew here? He pursed his lips in thought.

The nurses and doctors waited for him to speak. He gave a slow sigh. "Alright, let's try to wake him... I don't like the looks of this sleep he's in. Nurse Chapel?"

The nurse came forward with a hypospray. He watched her carefully. She looked a little _too_ happy, given that her patient was unconscious. He made a mental note to try and keep her away from Spock. He'd heard from M'Benga how she had held his hand when Spock was unconscious once, and she a nurse too; she knew _all_ about Vulcan hands.

She injected him with a low dose of the medicine, to revive him. He gestured for a few of the hovering nurses to step back, leaving he, M'Benga, and Chapel.

McCoy stepped forward. No response. Frowning, he took out a tricorder, bending over him. "How's he not awake? He should - "

THUD

McCoy fell to the ground with a curse as a fist hit him. Everyone who had moved away now jumped back to try and hold down the writhing Vulcan.

"The _hell? _Spock, _calm down!"_

He wouldn't calm, writhing more violently the more they tried to subdue him. Chapel jumped away, reaching for a hypospray.

"No!"

Startled, the others looked at him, a few stumbling back as they were shoved away by Spock.

"Everyone, get out!"

Bewildered, they looked at him blankly, and he pointed at the door back into the main Sickbay. "OUT!"

* * *

Captainly composure regained, Kirk waited in the main Sickbay, restraining himself from tapping a foot anxiously. The muted yells coming from inside were not so very comforting, but he nearly jumped out of his skin when some half-dozen medical staff came stumbling out of Spock's room, all looking highly confused.

"Is he alright?" Kirk asked, as confused as they.

No one could answer him.

* * *

Without the hands stopping him still Spock struggled against invisible enemies, twisting and turning, but less violently, mouth open in a silent scream. McCoy's heart lurched as he saw the light glitter off the Vulcan's cheeks - he was crying.

"Spock!" No effect. Disregarding touch-telepathy, he moved forward to grasp his flailing arms by the wrists. "SPOCK!"

* * *

_It_ was back again, grasping and pulling, all around him, with confusing noises rising and falling in volume. He struggled, more effectively this time, and at length the force fell away, but still he pushed out in each direction with his mind, stabbing and lunging all about, searching for a hint of the invader -

"Spock"

The words were faint, but there, and still he struggled. The words, though... _It _had not spoken aloud -

"SPOCK!"

And then there was a presence in his mind, faint but familiar, the mind-presence of _doctorMcCoyfriend? _and he knew suddenly that he was not attacking mentally, but physically.

His body stilled.

* * *

McCoy nearly fell against Spock as the Vulcan abruptly went still. Anxiously, he peered down at Spock, who was breathing heavily, looking at McCoy as though he really did not see him at all.

Gently, he let go of Spock's wrists.

"Spock?"

Spock took a few deep breaths. The panic faded from his eyes, but still there was something very wrong about his face. "D-doctor."

Had he just stuttered? Spock seemed to realize this as well, squaring his shoulders. "Doctor," he said, firmly now, though his face was pale. "What has happened?"

McCoy stared at him, then fell to a chair beside the bed with a small huff of disbelief. "I was hoping you could tell _me_ that, Spock. Jim found you in your quarters, thought you were dead, and then we wake you up and you act like a wild animal."

"My apologies, Doctor, I meant no inconvenience."

"Oh, that's besides the point!" McCoy said. "Do you remember anything?"

_Darkpainreachingspinningpain_

His breath hitched slightly, but McCoy didn't seem to notice. "...Little. I recall... an attack, I believe, beginning with a drug... in the water, I believe. Someone must have altered the replicator prior to the attack."

"Isn't a bruise on you," McCoy murmured.

"Not physically, Doctor, but psychically."

"They attacked your mind?"

"I believe I just said that."

McCoy gave him a look, but secretly was relieved. Spock was not looking so shaken now, which was quite a relief; having him seen shaken at _all_ was rather disturbing.

"I recall the attack itself," Spock went on, and there was a strange look in his eyes; "but not the purpose, or when or why it was ended..."

McCoy crossed his arms slowly, leaning back and eyeing him. "Except that no one else on this ship is psychic."

"It seems, Doctor, that that has changed."

* * *

**Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey, I actually figured out what I'm doing for the plot! Which is probably good. Also; like I said, slow-building. I'll slip in things when I think it fits, soo... Sorry! Nothing big for a while.**

**I love writing McCoy, though, makes me laugh. :)**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Star Trek or any characters, places, ideas, items, etc. etc. etc...**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"Fool! What do you mean, he is in Sickbay? What did you do? He should have remembered nothing, had no effects, like his father when I did this! What happened?"

There were two in the small space, one an aged creature, tall but bent and grey, and an uncharacteristic fury was on his face. "You may have jeopordized everything!"

The other was younger, hair black and sleek, just out of his teenage years, and he glared at his elder defiantly.

"And why should I be careful with such filth? I restrained myself from driving him mad, at the least, though it was tempting."

The elder bit his tongue as a retort rose. What could he do? The odd weak telepath could be found in their race, but these two were strange chances, impossible odds. The child was even a stronger telepath than he, and at least tripling the usual Vulcan psi-reading, even being stronger than the adept half-Vulcan who was their target, though he had barely matched the _last _one, who had been uniquely strong...

The elder himself held no love for Vulcans, but this torture? This careless cruelty? Intellectually, he accepted the rare need of torture to extract information in extreme cases - extreme, _extreme _cases. Of course, he had been raised to accept such, taken from his family at a young age for his abilities to help the government, as had this one. But they were very, very different.

"You could have killed him," the elder said, and knowing better than to try and appeal to his nonexistant conscious; "It would have ruined the Mission."

"But I _didn't, _now did I? No more than he deserves."

What did he do to deserve this? the senior one wondered. Been born to the wrong race and family, was all. "We are spies, not assassins. You must control yourself!"

The younger had the audacity to spit at his feet. "You've grown soft with age, old man. I'll do as I like."

The younger one was stronger, knew he was indispensable, and was arrogant, unbending... and the elder knew he could do nothing.

"You must be more careful next time!" he pleaded. Trying to force out too much information would make the Vulcan go mad, and they would lose all that he knew. "More discreet! We can _not _be discovered before enough information is gathered!"

The younger only sneered.

* * *

Kirk practically jumped on McCoy when the doctor emerged from the room. "Well? What happened, Doctor?"

"He was attacked," he said grimly. "By a telepath."

"A telepath?" Kirk echoed, mind racing. "Except - he's the only telepath on the ship, Bones."

"I know," McCoy said wearily.

"Is there anyone with an unusually high psi-level...?"

"Not from what I know. It could be that someone gained them, somehow - it wouldn't be the first time."

Kirk sighed. "Sorry to do this to you, but I'd like each crew member to have their psi-tests redone."

McCoy waved away the apology. "'Course." A pause. Softly; "He was completely in a panic when he woke up - never seen anything like it."

"Was that the yelling I heard?" Kirk look worried.

"Yes. He calmed down right away when he realized where he was, though. He's fine now."

"So..."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Get in there."

A relieved smile came over the captain's face, tension falling from his shoulders, and McCoy followed him as Kirk opened the door. Spock looked up as they entered.

The bioscreen above his head began shrieking, the screen going red as all the stats leapt up. Spock sucked in a breath, then seemed frozen.

* * *

Spock had only a moment to consider what had happened before the door opened. He looked up, then felt strangely taken aback. His vision narrowed to the sight of his captain. His chest contricted, his breath caught, and all conscious thought left his mind as he _stared, _mind frozen with a strange, mind-numbing terror. His blood pounded in his ears.

"Spock!"

The captain had left his vision; the voice was the doctor's. Black swam in his vision, but he ignored it, breathing again and forcing back the emotions. "Doctor?"

They both rushed for the bed. Later McCoy would not quite be sure how he knew, if indeed he knew at all and didn't just not want his friend put through this, but he was shoving his friend back toward the door without thinking about it, shouting at him to get out, get out, get out.

As soon as the captain left, the stats began lowering, just a little, and hesitantly McCoy paused, his hand holding a sedative. Something niggled at the back of his mind.

"Spock?"

The stats began lowering, his heart slowing, and suddenly the Vulcan was breathing again, thank God. McCoy lowered his hand as Spock blinked rapidly, then looked at him, bewildered.

"Doctor?"

McCoy didn't bother asking the question aloud, just staring at him, and Spock's eyes flickered to the door. "I believe, Doctor, that the sight of the Captain was somehow... subconsciously unnerving."

Unnerving? That was an understatement. "Apparently." His eyes flickered to the door, too. "...Interesting. Why would that be 'unnerving'?"

It was rhetorical, but Spock answered, almost defensively; "Doctor, the captain was in no way involved."

The words came out before McCoy could even consider them; "How do you know? You can't remember."

There was an uncomfortable paused as they realized what McCoy had said. Spock looked at him. "I know, Doctor, because I know the captain."

McCoy bowed his head slightly, as if in apology to the absent captain. "I know - but obviously there's _something_ about him your subconscious isn't liking."

"Obviously."

McCoy glared, then continued. "We've agreed to check the crew for elevated psi-levels. Until then I think it'd be best if you didn't see Jim - and I'd like to be there a moment when any of my staff come in, to see if this isn't just with him."

"...Understood, Doctor," Spock said. _Emotionless Vulcans my ass_, McCoy thought, hearing the discomfort with the idea plain in Spock's voice. Being kept from Jim, having a watcher for anyone else? The thought obviously rankled, but there was nothing for it.

McCoy left, and in a deja vu moment Kirk jumped him again. "Is he alright?" He demanded, trying to peer over McCoy's shoulder despite the shut door.

"Fine, now... Jim, he reacted that way when he saw _you."_

It took a moment for that to penetrate. "... That happened because of _me?"_

"Apparently. He doesn't know why, either, but it definitely because of the sight of you. Jim..." He sighed slightly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... I'd like to check your psi-readings first."

Kirk clenched his jaw, then blew out a breath slowly. "...Of course. Right here, or in another room?"

"Now?"

"What better time then the present?" His tone was stiff, a little offended, but he had to see the logic in this.

The test, thankfully, was not long, and despite himself McCoy was a little relieved to see the results. "Psi-null, as always."

Kirk relaxed almost imperceptibly, too. "I'll alert the crew... Will he need to stay in Sickbay?"

"No, the drugs are out of his system, and despite that little episode he's fine, physically. I'll release him to his quarters, though, considering..." McCoy waved a hand vaguely, "His... reaction to you... We should probably not try to put him on duty just yet... After the psi-readings are done, we can see if he won't freeze up when he sees you. Until then..."

"I'll keep away," said Kirk wearily. "I get it, Bones. If he's going back to his quarters I'll post a guard, of course... I can't imagine how he was surprised or overpowered, though."

"As far as I know, we only have humans here," McCoy agreed. "I can't see any sneaking by him with those ears of his, and certainly not out-fighting a Vulcan, unless there were multiple people involved in the attack."

"Or they were just pretty damned lucky." Kirk shook his head, frustrated with his helplessness. "I better get going. Should I start sending down the crew immediately?"

"Sooner the better."

* * *

Spock, though it was illogical, tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling as the Captain's voice resounded throughout the ship, as though he could look at the source.

_"Attention, Crew! At some time between 1900 and 2100 hours last night there was an attack on First Officer Commander Spock."_

* * *

The halls of the Enterprise hushed and tensed, and the Science labs were particularly solemn as they, too, gazed upward.

_"...The attack was psychic in nature. All personnel are required to report into Medical for psi-tests. You appointments will be sent to you; please speak to myself or Acting First Officer Scott to reschedule if necessary." _

* * *

The officer that was the talk of the ship was even the next day strangely weary, though there were no physical marks on him. He also felt mildly nauseus, though that was a common side-effect for him to Sickbay's treatments, so he did not mention this. The tiredness was more disturbing by far, but he was confident that he was ready to, at the least, return to his quarters.

The doctor, however, did not share his views.

"I'd really prefer to keep you monitored, there's no telling what effects that had on you, and frankly I'd prefer to _not _leave you to be attacked again, thanks."

"Doctor, I am hardly defenceless, and in any case I assure you I shall be more cautious. Furthermore, Jim has seen fit to assign a guard until the attacker can be found."

"Guard? What difference does that make? If this guy's psychic powers are this strong, who's to say he can be stopped by a guard?"

"Or she. However, while I do not know his or her strength, it is doubtful that they are able to hamper a person physically - I would surmise that he or she is a touch telepath, such as myself."

"Based on what?" McCoy demanded.

"First, I was drugged; this would suggest that the attacker is, perhaps, unable to affect a person physically with his psychic powers. This means that unless the person is in close quarters with a guard, defence is still possible. As for them being a touch telepath, I also vaguely remember a person touching my psi-points."

"Hmmph." McCoy looked unappeased. "Theories!"

"Lastly, Doctor, it is possible that this was an isolated incident."

"Isolated incident? You seriously think it won't happen again? The person is obviously still on board."

"Obviously," Spock agreed.

Ignoring him; "It's not _safe. _If you stay in Sickbay there are always a few nurses around, _and _the biobed sensors will alert me if the readings change dramatically; in other words, if you're attacked here. And, again, I'll know if there's any more effects on you from the original attack."

Spock raised an eyebrow, asking dryly, "Is that concern, Doctor?"

McCoy was in no mood to respond with his usual banter, grasping his arm. "_Yes, _damn you, a crazy human thing, we tend to get _worried _when people are trying to kill our friends. Are you staying in Sickbay or not?"

Spock was quiet for a moment, looking him with a strange look, and McCoy realized that he had actually _surprised _Spock. That was new. A moment later the look was gone.

"Very well. I will stay in Sickbay."

* * *

The first officer _did _stay in Sickbay, for two more restless days, as a series of tests and scans were constantly run to search for any lasting effects. Finally, the CMO was satisfied that he was not going to randomly keel over.

"Well, you look fine to me," McCoy declared as he strode into the room. "You can go back to duty - if you can stand looking at Jim, anyway."

"I have been meditating, Doctor, and reinforcing my mental shields. I am confident I will be able to control any instinctive reactions."

"Sure, but that's not the point. The point is you shouldn't be _having _those 'Instinctive reactions'. And I don't care if you _can _control them, having to do so is too much stress."

"If I control the reactions, Doctor, and spend time around him, it will penetrate my subconscious that Jim is not a threat."

How could he argue with that? "_Fine, _you stubborn idiot, but if it starts to get to you, you tell Jim that you need to get off the bridge, got it?"

"Doctor..."

"_Don't _argue with your doctor, because you will _lose. _See it this way; it's not logical to stay on the bridge if you might get nervous enough to operate less than optimally, now is it?"

With some reluctance; "No, it is not."

"There ya go." McCoy nodded, firmly, and knew he had won. Spock stood now on slightly cramped legs, and prepared to leave before McCoy stopped him with an exclamation.

"Oh!" McCoy slapped the biobed. "Right - we finished the psi-tests, did I tell you?"

It had the feeling of a rhetoric question, yet McCoy obviously awaited an answer, so he said, "You have not."

"Everyone is _completely _psi-null, except that ensign in Engineering who's a little empathic, but that hardly counts."

"Fascinating."

"That's all you have to say?" McCoy rolled his eyes. "You _would _say that. Well, get, I know you're eager to play with your numbers and scanners, Lord knows..." He left the room, voice trailing to an indecipherable grumble, and Spock left to go to the bridge.

* * *

A stubbled face of a Vulcan popped up above the dusty communications console, shining with a strange triumph and relief, given his race. _Finally _he had fixed the damned thing! Or so he hoped, anyway. He had tried half-heartedly before, but usually had no motivation. The events of three weeks ago had changed that. It had taken awhile, but he had managed it.

Now to send a message to the Enterprise...

* * *

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This one took a little more thought to write, but I think I'm really starting to get a decent grasp on where I'm going with this, so the chapters _shouldn't _be to far apart. Hopefully.**

**Off topic... If you're reviewing anyway, tell me, has anyone else not been getting story alerts for new chapters? And I saw that they've updated, too, but my alerts just randomly stopped...**

**Disclaimer; Do not own Star Trek, characters, places, items, ideas, planets, etc. etc. etc...**

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Kirk was delighted when he turned around in his chair to see his first walking back onto the bridge.

"Commander." He flashed his friend a relieved smile. At that word everyone else turned, calling out their own greetings as they saw him, and so no one noticed Kirk's smile falter as he remembered the scene two days before. But Spock only nodded to him, cordially, and quickly went to his post, where a Science Ensign, beaming, happily relinquished his seat.

"You _have _been _permitted _to return to duty by the doctor, then?" He asked pointedly, knowing that his friend, like himself, on occasion left Sickbay without permission.

"I have, Captain."

He relaxed a little. "Well, good to have you back, then." He said warmly, glad that Spock wasn't panicking again. He started to speak again, but was interrupted.

"Sir?"

He swiveled around in his chair to face Uhura. "Lieutenant?" He prompted.

"Engineering is reporting a few malfunctions, Sir. One of the turbolifts has stopped working, and sensors have reported repeatedly - the third occasion occurring a few moments ago - that an airlock is opening to the outside."

"Mr. Scott...?"

"Working on the problems, Sir, but the turbolift - "

"Of course." He tapped the comm. button. _"Attention, crew. Turbolift..." _he paused, and Uhura held up four fingers. "_...four is not to be used due to malfunctions." _And, unable to resist; _"In unrelated news, Mr. Spock has been released and is back on duty."_

The bridge crew grinned.

* * *

At the end of shift Spock joined Kirk and Sulu to leave to the mess hall, though the lieutenant's spirits seemed to dampen slightly as a guard joined them, following at a distance. He glanced worriedly at the captain, who pointedly ignored the topic.

After eating, at the captain's insistence, he returned to his quarters, the guard trailing him still. He was now quite recovered from the ordeal, it seemed, and looked forward to practicing that lyre as he had meant to.

He entered, the guard giving him some privacy and remaining outside the door, though finally speaking to say that he would check-in every hour. Spock saw the replicator as he entered, paused, then continued, making a mental note to check it later, to perhaps discover how his things had been tampered with... Of course, the person had attacked him soon after the drugging, had he not? Or it seemed he had, in any case. If so, he might have, as the doctor suggested, not been a touch telepath at all... Could he have created an illusion to hide his presence, an illusion in Spock's very mind? He considered this as he plucked at the strings of the lyre, bending his head over it.

The doctor... A vague emotion, a wisp of thought, came to his mind and was quickly shoved away; it was irrelevant. He pondered briefly, as he was wont to do, the Doctor's illogical reactions to him. First he would show anger, disdain for the Vulcan and his heritage, his personality, everything about him, and then, baffling, statements like that from a few days before.

_"...a crazy human thing, we tend to get _worried_ when people are trying to kill our friends..."_

Spock had long since deduced that the Doctor only admitted to worry when under severe emotional stress. Were the events of the past few days so truly worrisome for the doctor? It was logical, of course, for such an emotional creature as a human and, especially in the case of doctors, often compassionate creatures, to worry when an acquintance or friend was attacked. So why was he so fascinated by this? He resolved to meditate on it... Later. He had had enough of meditation in Sickbay.

He had played only a few minutes when the door slid open. He looked up to the unexpected sight of the security guard, Ensign Rowes, and raised an eyebrow as the guard stiffly approached.

"Was there something you required?" Spock asked mildly, curious. The guard said nothing. In a second he analyzed the situation, but even as he shot to his feet the guard's hand bolted to his neck.

He gasped and fell to the ground, seeing black spots, but the attempted Vulcan-nerve pinch was not wholly effective with human strength. There was not time to wonder how the guard knew how to use such a technique, however.

The guard tried to pin him, but failed. Spock twisted from his grip, a feral snarl releasing him, flinging out an arm blindly. He was rewarded with a thud and crack, the feeling of sticky blood on his uniform, and managed to half rise. Flesh collided with his cheek; his head was flung back to smack against the sharp corner of his side-table. Dazedly he rose to his feet, then steadying himself he ducked as another fist flew toward him. Grasping the next arm to fly forward, he yanked the guard to him and _correctly _performed the nerve pinch. The guard fell limply to the ground.

He surveyed the guard with interest as his vision returned, sitting slowly on the ground. A minute late when he felt the probability of losing his balance low enough, he rose again, carefully moving to tap the comm. unit in his room.

_"Spock to Captain Kirk."_

* * *

Kirk, in the mess hall, was sitting with Lieutenant Sulu and Lieutenant Commander Scott, and, of course, Doctor McCoy. He was feeling much more relaxed than he had allowed himself the past few days. He would, he was sure, be terribly worried about the current situation if he gave himself a moment to think, which was why he was quite determined to enjoy himself for at least a few moments.

The comm. unit in the room whistled, a voice carrying through the room to him; _"Spock to Captain Kirk."_

Bye-bye relaxation.

Feeling an immediate sensation of dread, he strode over to the communications panel. "Kirk here, what is it?" He asked sharply. He felt Scotty, Sulu, and McCoy's eyes burn into his back, and was unsurprised when McCoy joined him a moment later. "Are you alright?"

"I am well, Captain." Spock's voice assured him, and he relaxed slightly. "However, I felt obliged to inform you that Ensign Rowes has attacked me in my quarters."

"What?" He blinked rapidly, bewildered, and McCoy swore loudly, attracting not completely startled looks from others as he bolted from the room. Kirk said, hastily, "We're coming to your quarters, Kirk out." He punched the panel again. "Kirk to Security! Team to Commander Spock's quarters immediately! Apprehend Ensign Rowes!"

* * *

"You know, I'd hoped to keep you out of here at _least _twenty-four hours," McCoy growled, though he was more angry with the mutinous guard than Spock. "You're worse than Jim, I swear..."

"My apologies for the inconvenience," he responded mildly. Before McCoy could respond; "Has Ensign Rowes regained consciousness?"

"Not yet, but he should any time." He shook his head. "Tests said he was psi-null, too, I know it did... Him being the attacker, and then assigned to you - what are the chances of that?"

"Very low, Doctor, which is part of the reason I do not believe he was the attacker."

"What?" McCoy paused in his work, setting down his instruments as he looked as Spock sharply. "What do you mean?"

"The Ensign..." How could he explain it logically? The ensign's strange face when he entered the room, not angry or dark but blank and smooth. Perhaps, partially, it was pride, telling him that _he, _a Vulcan, could surely never be bested by a single human. Perhaps it was just, strange as it was, intuition. The captain would call it a 'gut feeling'.

But he certainly could not say something like _that _to McCoy.

"The Ensign has given me reason to believe that he was merely a tool of the original," He said finally.

"A tool? That means he still - "

"No, Doctor, it does not. If I am correct, it is possible the true attacker could have simply taken control of his mind instead of approaching me himself." That, however, meant he was most certainly _not _a touch telepath.

"So you couldn't see his face?" McCoy guessed. "Why not just drug you again? Or make you forget?"

"Memories return, Doctor, and I have been more weary of drugs. After this failure, however, he or she will likely be more prepared in the future."

"So you _do _agree it will happen again?"

"Obviously." McCoy twitched, restrained himself, and finished sealing the cut on the back of the Vulcan's head. "Though _why _is still uncertain."

"If we knew _why, _I imagine we would also know _who," _said McCoy reasonably, finishing. "Done."

Spock slid off the biobed, but McCoy stopped him.

"Is Jim..."

"He has agreed that more guards would be... unwise."

"Understatement of the century," McCoy muttered. He caught sight of something. "Wait up, you're hands all scratched..."

"Doctor - "

"It'll just take a minute," McCoy assured him. Spock took a step back, but the Doctor caught Spock's hand in his.

The world seemed to tilt, and his breath caught in his throat. Due to accidents or necessity, he had touched hands with others before - the meaning of which was quite different for a Vulcan - but never, ever like this. Somehow warmth flooded through each nerve now, his stomach churning in a not unpleasant way, a mind brushing his - and then, suddenly, the contact was gone, and he focused in again on McCoy standing before him, holding his medical instruments.

"All right, _now _you're done," McCoy said. He paused, frowning, as Spock just stared at him with a rather blank look. A touch of concern creeping into his voice; "Are you alright?"

He actually _jumped, _which should have been amusing but really wasn't when coupled with that rather dismayed face. Some memory stirred at the back of McCoy's mind, but escaped his grasp. "Thank you, Doctor, I will be... returning..." Uncharacteristically at loss for words, he quickly fled the room.

McCoy blinked in bemusement. "Vulcans!"

* * *

Instead of going immediately to see the captain Spock retreated to his rooms, just to give himself a moment to think.

His hand still tingled.

He stared down at it, rather intensely, as though it held the secrets of the universe. Taking a slow breath, he told himself, in his mind, that he could not lie to _himself. _That was the height of illogicality. If he did not mean to lie, then, that left only _truth, _and the truth was, suddenly, very clear, though his mind rejected the notion. Nonetheless he thought back, on all the past memories he had of this ship, and realized what he had always been _aware _of, on some deeper level, but never accepted.

He was... _Attracted _to the doctor.

And... perhaps more than that.

But he would not think _more, _though he knew his feelings _were _more, because he needed to talk the captain and frankly _that _little self-revelation would likely require quite a bit of meditation to stop him from panicking utterly. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind, checking his pulse, and decided himself ready to see what the Captain had to say of Ensign Rowes.

* * *

The captain looked up as Spock entered the brig. "Perfect timing, as always, Mr. Spock. He's just waking up."

Chief Security Officer Giotto was there as well, looming outside the cell with a grim look. The Ensign was, indeed, pulling himself up to a sitting position in his small cot with a groan, but before he could even complete this action the door to the brig hissed open and McCoy hurried to join them.

Of course McCoy would join them, what had he been thinking? Was he truly so discomfited? He stepped back against the wall, hoping that his sudden uneasiness was not plain, and now that he _recognized _his desires found it hard to tear his gaze from the doctor. But he did, forcing himself to focus on the captain, who stepped forward.

Unfortunately, McCoy ruined that effort with a simple utterance. "Whatever he did, Jim, don't get carried away and stress a beat-up man," McCoy warned, his duty as CMO. "I haven't been able to see to him yet." The words were not even aimed at him, yet he found himself listening closely to the voice, or more accurately the soft southern accent -

He shook his head rapidly, making Giotto look at him oddly, as he banished the thoughts. He was being foolish. He had just acknowledged that he _had _feelings and had simply been oblivious to them, so that meant nothing should really have changed except his self awareness, should it not?

McCoy had the brightest blue eyes...

...He _really _needed to meditate...

Thankfully he was brought back to focus by the Captain's sharp voice. "Rowes!"

Startled, the dazed Ensign rolled from the cot and stumbled to his feet, fumbling a sharp but clumsy salute. "Sir!" Awakening, he too shook his head rapidly, looking around at his surroundings with plain bewilderment. "What..."

"At 1321 hours yesterday you, Ensign, assaulted Mr. Spock in his quarters. Do you deny this?"

"Sir?" Bewildered, the Ensign looked at all of superiors for help, and was met with stony faces. "Captain, I don't - I didn't - I don't remember..." He clenched his fist several times, just for something to do, and then collecting his thoughts; "Sir, I remember standing outside the Commander's quarters, then nothing."

"So you deny the charges?" Kirk asked sharply.

The Ensign's mouth opened, then snapped shut as he paused; he had been on the Enterprise for a long time. Long enough to not discount strange possibilities. "Sir, I deny nothing but that I did not knowingly or willingly attack Mr. Spock to my knowledge. I can say nothing more than that."

Kirk surveyed him critically a moment. "No, I suppose you can't," he finally said. "I suppose you will not mind, then, if we test the validity of your statement."

Rowes was clearly puzzled. "How, Sir?"

"If you don't mind, Mr. Spock?" Getting the message, Spock stepped forward, raising an arm.

"A mind meld," he intoned calmly. Rowes' face whitened a moment, and his hands clenched to fists again.

Telepathy was, of course, exceptionally rare in humans. Perhaps understandably, then, they viewed the ability with no small wariness - but Rowes had complete trust in the Enterprise's first officer.

"Proceed, Sir." Rowes managed shakily.

A chill came over Spock as he spread his fingers over Rowes' face, probing for the psi-points. He loathed this task, which Jim seemed so keen on using to his advantage. He never complained, of course, for it _was _logical, but that never made it less unpleasant to perform the intimate act of mind-joining with strangers or non-sentient creatures or, worse, mad men and murderers, the criminally insane, the deranged.

Rowes' mind, thankfully, was not in the category of the last of these. He was foreign, a mind uncomfortable to join with, but his mind was not damaged or strange like many he had experienced. Quickly he sought out the information he needed. Rowes was aware of what happened, but too disoriented to have any control yet in this element; nonetheless he felt the man's shock when he pulled out the other's memories of attacking Spock. But while the actions were there, his mind was a blank slate, with only the faintest memory of a strange pressure, and the feeling of a foreign mind -

He disconnected, and Rowes gasped as he came out of the meld. Ignoring him; "Captain, he is innocent. His mind was taken over."

"You are sure?"

"There is no doubt."

Kirk was quiet a moment, then abruptly signalled to Giotto, who lowered the forcefield keeping in Rowes. Relieved but shaken, the Ensign came out, glancing warily at Spock.

"My apologies for the intrusion, Ensign." He said mildly. "But it was necessary."

"Of course, Sir." Rowes answered, automatically.

He could not quite shake the feeling (was this intuition or simple reasoning?) that Rowes would be transferring off soon.

The captain turned to him. "Did you find any information on who - "

"I did not. The mind was foreign to me, and strong. None of the true assailant's emotions or thoughts leaked through."

"Like he knew Rowes' mind might be checked?" McCoy guessed.

"More, doctor, as though he were very thorough. I do not think he would expect me to resort to such methods; few Vulcans would."

He realized that he had not noticed anything... alluring, for lack of better word... in the doctor's voice that time.

"Then you're presuming he knows quite a bit about Vulcans," McCoy noted... and now focusing on it Spock _very much _noticed the accent, a shiver going up his spine. It took a moment to process his words.

"It is only logical," he said after a pause. "that this person would familiarize himself with aspects Vulcans telepathy before such an attack."

"Now," Kirk interrupted, "_That _implies that he is logical - he could very well be quite insane."

"He could," Spock agreed. "However, while it can not be ruled out, I would prefer that he is sane. The insane are unpredictable, and all the more dangerous because of it."

* * *

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Really sorry about the wait. Are exams an excuse? Probably not, considering I barely studied... Well, it's summer, so hopefully I'll be updating quick... Maybe...**

**This turned out a little different than I planned. *shrug* I was in a weird mood today, tell me if it's alright? Also, planet name is totally random, so...**

* * *

**Chapter Four.**

* * *

"You did not get any information?" The elder demanded.

"I did what _you _suggested this time, idiot, and guess what? It didn't work. _Shocker. _I'm just going in myself next time."

"It would attract less attention to - "

"Are you insane? Attract less attention to have random members of the crew assault him? It attracts just as much attention as the other, and _my _method actually _gets information." _The younger snorted. "Telepathic gifts wasted on such a fool like you!"

* * *

The Vulcan glanced at the sputtering communications console as he flew his small, battered ship. He had sent the message, though it would take a few days for it to reach the Enterprise, if indeed it reached it at all.

One of the circuits randomly caught fire.

He sure wouldn't be able to send _another _message.

* * *

"Sir?" Kirk turned in his chair to look at Uhura. "Chief Giotto reports the search of the ship finished and no intruders on board." A pause. "...Minor complications in Science over some toxic plants and the sensors of the air-lock are still malfunctioning, also."

"Anyone hurt in Science?" He asked. His mind was more on Giotto's findings - or lack thereof.

"Minor injuries only, Sir, being seen to now."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

He was quiet a moment, staring at the viewscreen and the stars flying past as they headed to their destination. Finally he turned to Mr. Spock, who was... well, doing something at Science... Actually, he wasn't quite sure what Mr. Spock did at his console with nothing to scan, though that was beside the point at the moment.

"Mr. Spock?"

Spock glanced up.

Kirk steepled his fingers. "You have stated that the attacker's psychic abilities likely would not be great enough for him to control others." At this Sulu and Chekov glanced at the captain, interested in the turn of conversation. "Obviously, he was able to control Ensign Rowes for at least a minute or so, and at a distance. What would this say about his strength?"

Spock considered the question. "It is not so much the length of time he controlled the Ensign as the complexity of the actions he had the Ensign use."

"What do you mean?"

"I, for example, despite being a touch telepath have been able to control others sufficiently on missions, when necessary, such as having a guard unlock the door. However, having another physically fight requires a stronger control and connection with the victim to be able to act so quickly in response to what Ensign Rowes felt and saw, as he obviously did not merely have the ensign feel the urge to attack; he _directly _controlled every movement."

"Meaning?"

"That he is a highly adept telepath, Captain." Spock said simply.

"Fun." The captain pursed his lips. Then; "What species could have been capable of this?"

"I will assume you are aware of the telepathic species we have encountered in our missions, and will agree that none will have a motive for anything such as this." Kirk nodded in agreement. "There is a subspecies of Andorians, I believe, who are telepathic; but they are so rare and reclusive they would be very unlikely candidates. Possibly a Betazoid, but generally they can only plant suggestions, and from what I gathered from my mind-meld Ensign Rowes was completely under control. Humans are occassionally telepathic, but even if the psi-tests had not come back negative, there has never been a human telepath so strong. It is possible, given that we have found nothing, that the attacker is a non-corporeal being."

"Very possible," Kirk agreed. "But if so, why go after just you? It would be easier to go after non-psychics, we might not even notice what was happening."

"In that case, Captain, perhaps it has." Spock said dryly.

A few people looked a little nervous at that.

"Comforting."

* * *

After shift's end Spock declined the captain's offer of a chess game, but at his anxious insistence resigned to meditating in the captain's quarters, where hopefully he would not be found. He flatly refused to do without meditation, and certainly he could not meditate around others, though Kirk wanted him to not go anywhere alone. It took awhile for Kirk to relent; if Spock w_as_ assaulted again, Kirk might just confine him to the mess hall, which would be interesting.

He turned his mind inward, drifting in a tranquil haze, calming enough to inspect his emotions, hopefully, with detachment. He passed over the anxiety cause by the attacks. They would be simple enough to interpret and restrain. His main concern, at the moment, was Doctor McCoy.

_"Wait up, you're hands all scratched..."_

A shudder ran through him as he remembered _that _feeling, totally unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was emotion, yet he _yearned _to feel that again - but this time with the Doctor knowing _exactly _what he was doing. And _that _was what was disturbing.

He wanted... he did not know what he wanted. An uncertain thought came to his mind, one which somehow gave him pleasant warmth and yet twisted his stomach with anxiety. He held his arms tight to his body, bowing his head, blocking off the thought.

He could not allow himself to feel that... these were the emotions Vulcans warned against. There were emotion like panic, anger, which might cause one to err; and this feeling - he refused to name it, for name's gave power, and this had enough already - would certainly be one of those compromising emotions... And especially among the emotions _sorrow _was a powerful and disabling emotion... and he knew the doctor did not, could not, bear any such sentiments toward himself. This thought could cause sorrow. Therefore, he had to block his feelings.

It was logical. It was the Vulcan Way. Why, then, did he feel _more _saddened by doing so?

* * *

"For once, it might be _safer _for you to be on a landing party," McCoy grumbled. "That's a weird thought." He took his place on the transporter.

Spock decided that that comment was not worth a response, stepping beside the doctor as the captain took his own place. Kirk seemed to agree, glancing at him a little anxiously as he stepped onto the transporter. Spock did not understand this. The crew was acting very strange around him, recently, giving him looks like that of the captain as they passed him in the halls. Furthermore, they seemed to be seeking out his company for odd little reasons, especially Science. He had given up speculating on the motives for this.

The captain nodded towards the current transport operator. "Energize."

* * *

Curanis Beta had an unique atmosphere which made it difficult for the ship's scanners to pick up biosigns. However, the crew had it on good authority that the planet was not inhabited by sentient life; this was merely to be a simple mission, taking samples of promising plantlife to attempt to discover medicinal or other purposes.

Therefore, it was rather a shock when they materialized in the middle of a village.

The startled villagers were silent.

Disconcerted, Spock slowly glanced at Kirk and the doctor, both of whoms eyes were quite wide as they waited for the natives to react; but nothing happened. Spock allowed his eyes instead to examine the nearest villagers; Skin tinged like that of a human, wide slitted eyes, all green and without pupil, stiff spiked tails, no hair but with hard, skin-colored horns peppered on their heads, vicious nails more like claws, apparent fangs protruding from their closed mouths...

He thought it safe to deduce that the natives were not herbivores.

His captain glanced at him quickly now, alarm overcoming shock, and Kirk reached for the communicator.

_Not _the best of ideas.

* * *

Impatient, the younger checked again the readings of the ships their small spy-vessel was attached to, and found no vulcanoid life forms inside.

It would be impossible for anything larger than this ship to work, and even with their species' advanced technology, a similar ship of their's would, actually attached directly to the Enterprise's hull, cause some attention. That was why such an embarkment could only be performed with a small vessel made of a very, very, _very _rare material - and that was just the ship itself, not counting the difficulty of getting the instruments _just right _to prevent detection. All together, the little craft was priceless... and this was why, unfortunately, they could not be used for warfare, only spying. The vessel was not, after all, resistant to phaser-fire.

Pity. If they had more of this ship, they could destroy their enemies in an instant.

"Where did he go?" He asked impatiently.

"He likely - "

"Rhetorical!" Snapped the younger.

"You _did _ask."

* * *

"I blame you."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure _how, _but it's your fault."

Feeling a tinge of amusement, Spock deduced that his mental shields were once more compromised. Likely due to the light sedative used on both he and McCoy. The doctor was lying on the floor, apparently quite unable to rise, seeming rather disoriented but aware enough to not cause major concern. Spock was, he decided, less affected by the drug, but did find it slightly difficult to concentrate... And the room was spinning, which was rather rude, and rudeness was illogical. Or something was illogical here, anyway. And he felt rather numb, and could not seem to move his legs.

...Ah. He blinked down at his legs. He could move them, the doctor was merely half-laying on them, cutting off the circulation. When had that happened?

...Perhaps he was more affected that he had thought.

And where was the captain? Considering this, he glanced around the bare gray room, but the captain was not there. Perhaps he was hiding. Didn't he have a physical soon? Yes, he did, and he tried to avoid McCoy around then, and McCoy was with Spock - wasn't he? Spock double-checked. Yes, he was still there. Unless McCoy had a twin, or had been cloned, or this was an illusion, or an android impersonation, or -

He decided to just assume it was really McCoy.

McCoy was sleeping now, head pillowed by Spock's leg, which was strange but not displeasing, so Spock ignored the tingling in his legs and tilted his head back to rest against the wall, closing his heavy eyes. Sleep sounded a most agreeable prospect.

* * *

Kirk hefted the club in his hand, glancing around warily for any natives, but there seemed to be no more in the immediate vicinity. He had retrieved their communicators, tricorders, and phasers, so now he just had to find out where Spock and McCoy were being kept - things couldn't be so easy, after all. He had only sustained a mild bruising and lost his shirt. He hoped McCoy and Spock were unharmed. This was, after all, an unknown race - who knew what they might be capable of? From the looks of these natives, his friends might have been eaten!

He circled a small stone hut, seperate from the rest, which were wooden or straw mostly, and was even smaller than the others. He could not see inside - there were no windows - but there were likely more guards watching them inside. The door was 'locked' with just a bar across the door of heavy stone, so he quietly removed this, taking up the club again. Steeling himself, he kicked the door open.

BOOM

He sprang inside... but there were no natives.

Surprised, he let the club drop, staring incredulously at his sleeping - _sleeping! - _friends.

"Are you joking?" He asked in disbelief. They didn't stir. "Bones! Spock!"

They still didn't wake, but they seemed unharmed, and their chests rose and fell as they breathed. Frowning, he withdrew a tricorder and scanned, a little clumsily. He sighed. Drugged. But how badly?

"Spock! Bones!"

He was louder now, and after a little more prompting they both began to stir, but only looked at him blearily.

McCoy huffed slightly as he saw him, groggily turning back to lay down his head, and Kirk swelled indignantly. Spock, at least, had the decency to continue looking at him.

"McCoy will find you soon," He said, quite seriously.

"...Right." Kirk raised an eyebrow. A bit of the confusion fading, amusement replaced it.

He wished he had a camera.

"...Alright, we're going to beam back aboard, Mr. Spock," Kirk said, taking out a communicator. Spock frowned, actually _frowned, _at him severely.

"I am attempting to meditate. Please be silent."

Kirk ignored him.

"Three to beam up."

* * *

Giving a frustrated sigh, the younger of the two checked the scans as the older sipped at his tea. His delighted exclamation made the older jump.

"He's back!"

* * *

Scotty looked at the three with bemusement - Kirk, shirtless and grinning, the only one standing, with Spock now lying flat on the floor, fingers nonetheless steepled together in meditation pose, as McCoy slumbered across his legs.

"Cap'tn?"

Kirk just shook his head, still grinning, and strode over to the comm. panel. "Kirk to Sickbay, Medical Team to Transporter Room." He cut the communications. "I don't _think _it's dangerous," He explained, "but we had best be sure."

"Aye, Cap'tn..." He glanced at the two, lips twitching. "Say, can you maybe hold off the team for a just a sec? If it's not dangerous, after all..."

"Scotty?"

"I'll be _right _back, Cap'tn."

* * *

McCoy woke up slowly, and realized he was in Medical, on one of the biobeds. Strange, he was rarely harmed on away missions. He felt rather lethargic, so he sat up slowly. A passing nurse gave him a wide grin, traces of laughter in her eyes, and swept by. Disoriented, he looked around, then caught sight of a picture on the little table beside him. In the center was Spock and himself, sleeping in interesting positions, with Jim, Scotty, and a few nurses behind the two, grinning madly.

He decided to go back to sleep.

* * *

"The sensors of the airlock are _still _malfunctioning - "

"Mr. Spock!" The captain beamed as his first came onto the bridge. "You and the doctor are fine, then?"

He put a slight emphasis on _the doctor, _and a few stifled grins came from the crew.

"Quite well, Captain, thank you." Spock said stiffly. Kirk's lip twitched, but he said nothing, allowing his first to go to his post without further comment.

* * *

The intruder, manipulating the minds of the nurses, was completely unnoticed as he strode into Sickbay, but he saw that his target was no longer there. He frowned. Where had he gone? He was about to turn and leave when his eye caught something, and he double-taked. He moved to stand beside on of the biobeds, picking up a small picture.

Interesting.

* * *

McCoy, understandably, was in a bit of a sour mood from the constant giggling of his nurses, so he retreated into his office with paperwork. He had not gone through much at all when a strange feeling came over him, and he paused, blinking and shaking his head. Why was he so faint? An after effect of the drug? His mind searched for possibilities automatically, but his thoughts were becoming slow, his limbs going heavy. The door opened.

* * *

"McCoy to bridge."

Kirk tapped the button. "Bones, what is it?"

"There are a few after-effects of the drug from earlier, need you to send Spock down for a moment."

Concerned; "After effects?" Spock turned from his chair, rising and looking at the captain with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll explain later, but he really needs to come down _now."_

"Mr. Spock?" He looked to the Vulcan, who nodded and left as Uhura called down a replacement.

* * *

**Reviews?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the wait! And thanks to all reviewers for feedback. :)**

**Disclaimer: Do not own Star Trek or any of the species, characters, items, places, ideas, etc. etc. etc.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"There are a few after-effects of the drug from earlier, need you to send Spock down for a moment."

"After effects?"

"I'll explain later, but he really needs to come down _now."_

After effects? After effects? Did that mean... Was he hurt? McCoy's mind panicked for a minute, then grew even more confused... Wait... Hadn't _he _said that there was an after-effect? So shouldn't he know what it was? Something... Wasn't right... The concern fading to panic at the realization, and an alien pressure fell upon his thoughts again.

From a distant, detached view, Leonard McCoy watched himself watch the door to his office. Not long after the call to the bridge it opened, the ship's half-Vulcan _traitors betrayers usurpers_ stepping inside. The door hissed shut behind Spock _son of Sarek son of Skon _and McCoy stood.

"There are side-effects, Doctor?" Spock questioned. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine, now, but I'd like to take a look at you again," McCoy heard himself say. "Can't believe I missed it!" He gestured to the door. Spock turned to walk back out, and swiftly McCoy took out a hypospray, stabbing it into Spock's neck with a soft hiss.

* * *

The young spy's blood pounded in his ears with his exhilaration as this 'Doctor McCoy', under his control, easily subdued the trusting Vulcan. Through the body of the man he injected a sedative. He could have kept his prey asleep and done the job, but, frankly, it was most enjoyable with the victim semi-conscious.

He had not wished to risk the telepath seeing through his illusion, but now strode throughout Sickbay back to the office from his hidden crevice. Nurses jumped aside as he passed, looking puzzled with their own actions.

He entered, coming up to the barely-moving Vulcan form. Distractedly he had the Doctor back off slightly, exerting just enough control over him to keep him still and blank.

He could have gotten the information through McCoy's body, too. But it just wasn't the _same._

He was pleased with the strength of the sedative. Enough that the Vulcan was struggling to try and rise to a sitting position, but still quite aware. Easily forcing the Vulcan back down, he felt for the psi-points, then closed his eyes.

* * *

"Captain?" Kirk turned back at Uhura's confused voice. "We have a rather... garbled transmission coming in. Audio and Visual. I... can't quite tell where it's from, but it seems to be about Mr. Spock...?"

"On screen, Lieutenant."

A flickering picture came on the screen, but it was easy enough to make out the dark hair and pointed ears of the sender. It was a Vulcan.

Or was it? A look of anxiety was apparent on his features, and his voice, or what Kirk could make out, was desperate sounding.

"S... to Enter... Spy sent to... Spock... of the... telepathy..."

Telepathic? Did this Vulcan know about what was going on? He sat up straighter. "Lieutenant!"

"A minute, Sir!" The image fell away, and for a minute Uhura tweeked her instruments around. The image came back, flickering just the same, but while the audio was still staticky it was legible, or most of it.

"This is ...bok to ...terprise... spy sent to get inform... from the clan of Sch'gn T'gai, due to go...ent posi... Will like.. go after Spock. Will attempt to learn s...ets of the High Council and such through telepathy, so be... Very stro.. telepath, ... careful... ...trol oth... spy is a... there are..." the message turned to random, unintelligible sounds, and Kirk looked again to Uhura, who shrugged helplessly.

"Best I can do, Sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Replay transmission."

* * *

The spy had access to the Vulcan's mind, his probe harsh and painful, though this was quite unnecessary. He began to go for the intended information, then stopped. Curiousity overcame him. He could wait for that - he wanted to know what this human was to the Vulcan. It made no difference which he learned first. Still linked with the human, he searched Spock's mind harshly, a distant gasp of pain echoing around him as he was drawn into the Vulcan's mind.

_-Southern accent and bright blue eyes, gentle hands, heated arguments loyaltykindnessgruffbutgood, strong and steadfast, stubborn, proud, emotional _(but that's alright with him)_ - ?_

_-?_

* * *

McCoy, eyes blank and staring straight ahead, saw nothing, heard nothing, thought of nothing, but all the information filtered through his mind anyway - and, finally, information came through that triggered a response, that roused his mind enough to become, if just a little, aware.

_Pain. _Not pain being felt, but a _want to cause pain, _a desperate lust for pain, pain for one particular person, a Vulcan, for Spock -

Slowly, it registered; the figure in front of him, bending over another figure, was not supposed to be here. And the figure on the floor was Spock, and the one above him was _hurting _Spock, or doing something like that, and that was unnacceptable. And McCoy could stop it.

Through fog his arm rose slowly, a leg, unbending, sliding across the floor. His limbs were heavy, but he could move, and the person was not paying any attention to him. Dimly, McCoy saw the thoughts sifting through his head, and through him the thoughts in _Spock's _head, and _that _was not right, either.

His limbs felt lighter. Something, though, told him that he could not defeat this thing, could not hold it down, but something also told him he had to try. He drew back an arm slowly, then quick and hard as he could swung it around.

* * *

Pain, blackness. The spy gasped at the sudden loss of connection more than the pain, though both were considerable. He fell to his side, the world seeming to heave.

Someone had dared to attack him - the thought infuriated him, and he stabbed out with his mind in all directions, feeling a weak cry to his right - and, above and to the left, a furious snarl.

He jerked up and shot out a fist, made contact, heard sounds loud and angry - cursing, in Federation Standard. He scrambled to his feet, but something caught on his leg, and he fell. Splitting pain in his head, and then silence.

* * *

McCoy swore, clutching his bruised stomach, but ignored it in favor of stumbling over to Spock. He seemed mostly unharmed, though groggy. Next the spy; unconscious, but still alive. Usually he hated death, but in this case... Well, he wouldn't have weeped if the thing had died, to put it one way.

He raised his voice. "NURSE!"

Footsteps. Satisfied for the time, he ignored the opening of the door and the gasps as he stumbled back to Spock, kneeling beside him even as he fought his own disorientation. He rifled through his ever-present black medical bag, found a scanner, and ran it over the Vulcan as Chapel's voice rose above the rest.

"Doctor?" Her voice was bewildered.

He didn't even look up. "That's the intruder." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Call security, get him hauled to Sickbay."

He ignored them again, taking out a hypo and injecting it with a hiss. Still disoriented, Spock blinked rapidly, then slowly stood with McCoy's assistance as the stimulant did its work. He seemed mostly unharmed from this one, to McCoy's satisfaction.

He turned to the nearest nurse as a few security officers, rounded from the halls by his staff, jogged in and took away the intruder. "Get the Captain."

* * *

Kirk frowned in thought, leaning back and eyeing the frozen image of the Vulcan speculatively. Uhura had analyzed the words and was able to determine the missing bits of the message, making it; "This is (?) to Enterprise, - - - - spy sent to get information from the clan of S'chn T'gai, due to government position. Will likely go after Spock. Will attempt to learn secrets of the High Council and such through telepathy, so be - - - - Very strong telepath, be careful, as he can control others. The spy is a - - - - there are - - - - - - - - - -"

He shook his head. He wasn't quite sure why, but S'chn T'gai, at least, sounded familiar. And apparently they had something to do with Spock...

"Captain!" Kirk jerked his head about at Uhura's excited tone. "McCoy caught the intruder!"

_McCoy?_ "Is he in the brig?"

"Yessir!"

Kirk was out the door before the word ended.

* * *

Duty told him to check on the prisoner; friendship and concern, however, had the captain in Sickbay almost before he realized where he was going. He was relieved to see Spock sitting on a biobed, looking at McCoy with a vaguely long-suffering look as the doctor held a tricorder against him, pursing his lips.

"Doctor, I assure you, I have suffered no damage."

"Suffered no damage, my - " He saw the captain and stopped himself. "Jim. Have you talked to the..."

"No, not yet, I came right here. I assume by the doctor's griping that you're well, Spock?"

"Indeed. Interestingly, Captain, I believe Doctor McCoy is in a more jovial mode while I am _un_well."

"What?" McCoy sputtered, and Kirk felt a grin threatening to escape a the familiar banter, but had to interrupt.

"If you are well then, shall we all - with, of course, the good doctor's permission - " he smiled mockingly at McCoy, who scowled in return, "go to the brig to interrogate this mysterious alien?" He looked at McCoy. "He _is _alien? Not one of the crew?"

"I didn't exactly get a good look at him," McCoy admitted. "Just know security dragged 'im off."

Kirk nodded. "Alright, let's get down to - "

There was a whistle of the intercom. "Security to Captain Kirk!"

A feeling of unease swept through the captain. "Kirk here."

"Sir, the prisoner had escaped!"

_"What?" _Eyes wide, he looked at the other two sharply. His expression was mirrored by McCoy, but Spock look impassive as ever. "How?" Kirk demanded.

"Sir, he - one of the guards - "

_Damn it! _He realized what had happened, and McCoy grimaced with understanding. The intruder had obviously controlled the guards and escaped - why hadn't he thought of that?

"I'll be right there. Kirk out."

* * *

Kirk paced in front of the miserable guard, Ensign Trevors, while Giotto stood by with a grim expression. Spock and McCoy hung back and watched.

Kirk stopped pacing, taking a deep breath, and the Ensign tensed. "It wasn't your fault." The ensign blinked in surprise. "You couldn't have been prepared for that, and there was nothing you could have done, so don't feel any guilt." The ensign relaxed just a little. "However, I do need to know anything you remember. First, there were others who apprehended him I'll be talking to, but do you remember what he looked like?"

The ensign hesitated.

"He... he had dark hair," Trevors said slowly. "brown eyes, very tall, pretty built, and..." A pause. "And pointed ears, Sir. He looked Vulcan."

Vulcan? He shook his head. "Are you sure, Ensign?"

"Yes Sir."

He glanced at Spock, but couldn't tell if that had had any effect, so he turned back to the ensign. "What do you remember?"

The ensign shook his head helplessly. "Sir, I brought him down here with a few others. They left, I stayed. A few minutes later I was just on the other side of the force field."

"That will be all." The ensign left. Giotto looked at the captain. "Go easy on him, chief."

Giotto gave him a sceptical look and left.

Kirk breathed out slowly, turned, then stopped as he remembered something. _Vulcan..._

"Mr. Spock!" He exclaimed, making McCoy jump. Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk thought, for a moment, that he looked a little more... _reserved _than usual, if possible, but he dismissed the thought. "We had a transmission on the bridge earlier I thought you might like to see."

* * *

"So, do you know him?"

Spock looked with empty eyes at the emotive Vulcan face on the main screen. "Yes."

"...And?"

"I believe it likely he either also was under such attack or was somehow made aware of the spy's intentions..."

"Spy?"

"Obviously, the intruder is, for one reason or another, after knowledge of my clan and the High Council, from what.. this one has said."

Kirk frowned. "But why your clan? And what would you know about the High Council?"

Generally, he preferred not to bandy about details of his family, but... "I am a member of the House of Surak, Captain, a descendant of the Vulcan who eradicated emotion and introduced logic to my people. My House holds great influence over the politics of Vulcan - and, T'pau is my grandmother."

Kirk's eyes widened. "The ruler of Vulcan is your grandmother?" He asked incredulously.

"Affirmative. I do admit, Captain, to some knowledge that could prove... potentially harmful, if supplied to certain persons."

"...I see." Well, that explained a few things, though it raised more questions than it answered. "Well, we can't just hope this isn't going to happen again..." He shook his head. "Meet me at the end of shift, Spock." The Vulcan nodded and moved to sit at the Science console. "Ah, Mr. Spock? Why don't you - " Spock raised his eyebrows, looking at the Captain challengingly, and his friend had to relent. He was just being overprotective, he knew. "...Nevermind."

Mind caught up with the latest revelation, he forgot to ask Spock how he knew the Vulcan.

* * *

The dark-haired vulcanoid spy looked at his older partner. "It was not my fault!"

"You've had multiple chances! It's too much of a risk to stay and try to fulfill the mission - "

"What?" The youth's eyes flashed with rage. "Are you insulting me, you old - "

"Yes, I am!" The elder barked. "You have completely disregarded the mission for your own whims!"

"We were not told to show mercy! That is not our way! I will cause the Vulcan to suffer."

"No," Said the aged one darkly. "We are returning to our planet before you are captured. We can wait a decade or so to come back, when the memories of this are forgotten."

"Leaving? Leaving? We are not leaving, fleeing like cowards!"

"We are not to be put at risk, we are valuable spies - "

"No." The youth stood, brown eyes sparkling with insane fervor. "No, _I _am a valuable spy. You were meant to be my mentor; and now you are obsolete."

It was over in a moment, a hidden knife drawn, thrust, before the slow elder could respond. He slumped to the ground, light fading from his eyes. The incorrigable younger lifted his head with pride... And then sniffed. He looked around the cramped area with a frown.

Where to put a decomposing body?

* * *

"Spock..." Kirk sighed, glancing around the empty ready-room uncomfortably, knowing his friend was not going to like this. "I... believe that you should have some sort of... security against this Vulcan."

Spock blinked blankly. "Sir, that has proven most unwise."

"Yes, but... I took a moment to get Bones' report, Spock. He, for one reason or another, seems to be able to fight the control to an extent."

Spock looked at him without change of expression. "Sir, the doctor is, obviously, a doctor. Not a security guard."

"No, but he doesn't need to be one. Generally, you're with multiple people here - except when you're in your quarters, that is - and outside them we can hope that this person can only control so many at a time, though we can't underestimate him... Inside your quarters..."

He saw Spock's understanding. "You wish me to stay with Doctor McCoy."

"It seems... Logical." He smiled tightly. "So?"

"I am of the opinion, Sir, that my response will make no difference in the matter."

"Perceptive as always, Mr. Spock," Kirk congratulated. "I've already asked Bones, and he has agreed that it would be wise. Really, it shouldn't be for long."

* * *

Spock slowly took a breath, trying to ignore the subtle scents lingering in the room as he sat, legs crossed, against the wall. His eyes were closed, fingers steepled, but the room was not totally silent. Though trying to be discreet, even the sound of McCoy breathing as he read through medical reports and paperwork was slightly distracting. Spock managed to shut it out.

McCoy would, in other circumstances, have proven an easy enough companion to room with. He understood his need for meditation and had set aside an area, and was, to be fair, at least endeavouring to give him the silence to meditate. It was not the fault of McCoy that Spock would have preferred the excitable Chekov or friendly but tactless Mr. Scott presently.

He _needed _to meditate and reflect on the sensations he had begun to acknowledge, but the process, difficult at best, was awkward and uneasy while in the same room as the subject as his thoughts. He did what he could to ignore this.

Why was he meditating on the doctor, though? The matter of the spy was surely the highest priority. However, this was proving more of a distraction, so he decided to attend to this matter first.

Obviously... obviously, his feelings were not lust, or at least not _just _some lust. That was fairly evident. He had never, after all, felt or succumbed to such feelings in the past. No, it was more than _physical _attraction, but while that might have been strange, it would have been preferred, uncomplicated, something to puzzle over and then overpower and dismiss. But this was not (just) physical. His heart sped up a little, but he made no attempt to rein it in, focusing on the past sensations. Underneath his shields, he examined the _fondness _he held for the doctor, the strange _warmth, _so different than what he had for Jim... It felt... He pushed the thought away. It was, he told himself, irrelevant. It did not matter. He would control the feelings, and all would be normal and well, and just this once, he could ignore the reasons and just shun it.

On other matters... He breathed slowly through his nose, almost a sigh. He had raised his shields unusually high today with the stress which had resulted from the events, but now with shields lowered he encountered, a little late, his feelings.

_Fear. Betrayal. _Doctor McCoy had restrained him... And, for just a moment, he had not considered the intruder - it had been _McCoy, _in his mind, who had tried to harm him. But that was foolish. He thought logically on the folly of this emotion, foremost among his reasons the thought that McCoy had, obviously, not been in control of himself - at first. He summarily was able to dismiss the emotion, and moved on through several more situations.

The Vulcan on the screen. _. _But he was not to think of that one... not now. he could repress the memory of his brother, as well... Just for a while. He skipped before this memory to another point in the day.

Another negative emotion. After the spy had escaped, he had felt something, just for a moment. _Apprehension. Fear... LossDisgustHorror _Why did he have fear? He had gone through much more stressful situations. Fear was illogical. What was, was. Fear would not be beneficial.

The thought was oddly unhelpful.

Perhaps... Was it because of the repetitiveness? Before, it might be expected to encounter danger on missions, but now it was ensured, and the assailant was after him. And... a small thought hovered in his mind. This was worse, far worse, than any physical maladies done to him on past excursions with the Enterprise. Such an invasion, a violation of the mind - _mindrape, _some called it. Oh, he had used the meld without permission before, but never so deep, and he did not look to harm. If there were any effects, which was unlikely, they would not be majorly traumatic. But this... He shuddered slightly, and unbeknownst to him his body, as he thought, began shaking, just slightly. Every detail of his mind, stripped bare for the delight of another, tainted - how could he be sure of his own mind? Were his memories even true? Had that looming presence stolen his memories - did he have siblings or a wife he had forgotten, children? It could happen, it had to others. Regardless, the thought of another, rummaging through his thoughts, his emotions, seeing his actions, experiencing all that he had, stealing -

"Spock!"

With a start his eyes flew open, and right before him were bright blue eyes. Instinctively he jerked back, then gasped as his head smacked the wall.

"Shit! Sorry, sorry!" Flustered, the doctor appeared uncertain what to do - this patient didn't take kindly to touch on the best of days, and _he _had caused this injury, but he was a doctor, dammit! He needed to examine the injury.

"I am well, Doctor."

"You were shaking, and now have banged your head, too." Overcoming his first reserves, he examined his friend's head. "Hm, you're fine... Are you alright? Was that normal for meditation?"

"Hitting my head?"

"No! The shaking!"

"Ah. No, Doctor, it is not. Thank you, but I believe I shall continue my meditation."

McCoy could only stare at him incredulously as Spock steepled his fingers again and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Security to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Sir, we've found a dead Vulcan on Deck Eight." His voice was baffled.

"Dead - Bring him to Sickbay, I'm on my way."

* * *

"Definitely not the one who attacked, Jim - his hair alone says that much, his age. Furthermore," McCoy shook his head. "I don't think he's Vulcan."

"What?" He had the signature pointed ears, there was dried green blood on him, he had been stabbed in the side, right where the Vulcan heart would be -

"He's _very _similiar... But I don't think he's a Vulcan. I know we haven't exactly been able to examine many, so I can't be sure, but I _think _it's a Romulan."

_"What?"_

"It seems to fit."

"The attack was telepathic. Presumably, this is an accomplice to the one who came after Spock. Romulans aren't telepaths, Bones."

"Maybe, maybe not. Like I said, we haven't exactly had the chance to examine many, now have we?"

"...So the _Romulans _have sent _telepathic operatives _after my first officer?"

"Seems like it."

"...I don't think Starfleet is going to like this."

* * *

**You can invent what reasons you like for McCoy resisting the control. :)**

**Reviews?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry about the wait! I've been considering this story, and if I want it good and slow-building, this is going to be a LOT longer than I intended. And probably continue after this whole section with the Romulan spy. Sigh. Sorry about the short length, know people were probably expecting more.**

**Also; great thanks to all reviewers who motivated me to stop being lazy.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

The Romulan strolled through the halls of the Enterprise easily, smirking as confused crewman leapt aside as he passed them. He loved his telepathy. And now he could really do just as he liked with the elder, Zokta, dead.

Screw the mission, this was personal. He would _break_ that psi-null human who had hit him.

* * *

"...and don't - " McCoy paused as behind the nurse before him on the other side of the room a nurse randomly jumped against a wall. He blinked, then shook his head. "Don't forget the ensign's allergies, he can't have a few types of analgesics."

"Yessir."

The nurse in front of him left. He started to move forward, then stopped, stepping back.

_What..._

He stepped back again, hastily, and shook his head in confusion. It wasn't mind control, but something felt... wrong. He took another step back... toward his empty office...

_What's going on here?_

Resolutely, he planted his feet on the ground, resisting the next urge to leap back, but _fell _back anyway as something hard hit him. He fell back with a curse, swearing and shoving at a body on his chest - except suddenly there wasn't a body. The weight abruptly left.

"Doctor!" A few nurses fluttered over, but he waved them up as he stood, noticing instead that a few nurses leapt away hastily, clearing a path to the door.

_Shit._

* * *

The Romulan fled back to the ship, mind spinning with confusion.

_How does he do that?_

* * *

Kirk looked up as the doctor practically bolted onto the Bridge, but the doctor interrupted until he could say anything. "Jim, the bastard can go _invisible."_

"What?"

Spock looked up from his station, and McCoy continued, quickly describing his experience in Sickbay. "I didn't know _why, _but I saw a few people just sort of randomly jumping aside in Sickbay, and then I was moving back for no reason. So I made myself stay still, right? And then _something _ran into me and fell on me, and then must have left, because all the nurses jumped out of the way again, and the door opened and closed with no one there."

The captain blinked rapidly for a moment, putting together what he had said. "So he can make himself invisible, but if people are avoiding him... Speculation, Mr. Spock?"

Spock looked thoughtful. "I believe I have a theory, Captain." He was very silent a moment, then abruptly vanished.

Kirk bolted up from his chair, and then Spock was suddenly back. "What the _hell? _Where'd you go?"

Everyone on the bridge looked at Kirk as though he were insane.

"I used telepathy, Captain, so that you would not see me. A slight manipulation, but one which would require enormous effort to use on multiple people at once. In any case, Captain, this explains how he has been able to avoid visual detection, if not the sensors."

Kirk slowly sat back down. "I see," he said slowly. "There is also something else unexplained, though. We know why he's after you - but why's he going for McCoy now?"

A pause. "Captain, it should have occurred to me earlier... Would it not be wise to contact the High Council?" It took Kirk a moment to figure out what council he was referring to. "They may have some knowledge on this Romulan, if there have been such attacks on others. It it possible, if the Romulan is truly after knowledge of the Council."

Kirk nodded. He had already considered this, however. "And how long do you think it'll take to actually get to speak with one of the council members?" He asked wryly.

Spock raised an eyebrow slowly. "Surely, Sir, you have not already forgotten my relation to T'pau?"

Kirk's mouth opened, then closed, and he blinked. "...Oh. Right."

* * *

Orders, Vant the Romulan had decided, could be interpreted in different ways. His orders had, really, not been very specific... Basically, get as much information possible on the family of Sch'gn T'gai and the High Council, be discreet, don't get caught, return safely.

They never said he _couldn't _kill anyone, and Vant decided that his intentions could be considered 'discreet'. They might send some information to Starfleet, but after all, if he eventually destroyed the Enterprise, well, in the end no one would really know what had happened, now would they?

* * *

The captain did, at least, allow Spock to contact T'pau off the bridge, though he and McCoy joined him in the nearby room, calling up Scotty as well. Once they were all assembled, Spock put through a call to T'pau. They should still be close enough for a real-time call, if there was no interference, though he commented that it was unlikely that she was able to take the call immediately. Being a relative might allow him to bypass the usual exhaustions of contacting her, but T'pau was often busy. Both eyebrows rose as almost immediately the screen changed from the Federation symbol to show T'pau.

_"Pid-kam."_ He inclined his head respectfully, raising his hand in the Vulcan salute. "I am afraid this is not a social call."

"Spock." The word, pronounced the Vulcan way, was more like 'Spoo-uck'. She raised her own hand. "Greetings. Have thee used the private channels for ship's business?" Her eyes went to the others pointedly, but they stayed silent and respectful.

"In a manner. It more concerns Vulcan, however. A Romulan spy has come aboard, at minimum some eight days ago. Knowledge of the High Council has been compromised."

A slightly quirked eyebrow indicated T'pau's interest.

"The Vulcan is an adept telepath," he admitted. "While I can not with great accuracy recall most of our encounters, I do know that he was after knowledge of the Council and the House. I am uncertain what he may have learned."

Her gaze sharpened. "Were thee harmed?" Behind Spock the three humans glanced at each other, honestly a little surprised that a practical Vulcan, family or not, asked over his well-being before asking about a threat to the security of Vulcan.

"I bore minimal physical damage." That wasn't the answer she was looking for, and they both knew it, but that could wait until a more private setting. She accepted his words for now.  
She nodded. "Clarify."

He straightened. "There have been three attacks on my person, two utilizing crewmembers whose minds were controlled by the intruder. There is also reason to believe there was to be an attempt on Doctor McCoy." The doctor inclined his head to her. "The Romulan is at minimum able to mask his presence with telepathy, control the actions of others, search memories by melding, and wipe memories of his doings."

"He _is _Romulan?"

"Either Romulan, ma'am, or a Vulcan with some pretty quirky components in his make-up," McCoy piped up helpfully.

"A dead vulcanoid, presumably Romulan, was found to be deposited on onboard yesterday. He is older than the intruder we knew of, and is likely an accomplice. It is possible that a Vulcan may have been working with the Romulan, but unlikely."

T'pau nodded. "We have no reason to believe the Romulans would be after members of the House." Her voice was empty of emotion, aged but steely.

"There has been no suspicious activity? No attacks on any of the Clan?"

"There has not. I shall inform the council of this matter. We shall do what we can to protect any systems which may have been compromised." The tone was clear dismissal. "Thee will speak to me privately later." It was not a question.

Spock bowed his head in acceptance, and the visage of T'pau flickered off the screen.

Scotty whistled softly. "Yer granddam's one scary lady, lad."

Spock ignored the comment. "T'pau will contact the ship, I am sure, if she learns anything of import. It seems, however, that we are currently at a 'dead end', as it is, as scans and searches remain continuously inconclusive. We will have to wait again for the Romulan to reveal himself."

"Excuse me for not liking the idea of you being attacked, Mr. Spock, but I would really like some alternatives," Kirk growled, beginning to pace impatiently.

"It may not be I who will next be attacked," Spock pointed out. "The Romulan has now gone after McCoy at least once."

* * *

Immediately at shift's end Spock went to his shared quarters. McCoy was not present. The captain would not be pleased to know that he was alone, but this conversation, at least, should be private.

T'pau's face appeared on the screen. With only her grandson present, she dispensed with the more formal 'thees' and 'thous'. "Spock. Have you been harmed?" She asked again. Her voice was still cool and commanding, but he relaxed slightly in his seat. T'pau had never been truly intimidatinig to her only (remaining) grandchild, though certainly a figure of some awe and respect. He repeated his last answer.

"I bore minimal physical damage." He added; "I am fully recovered."

"Physically, I am sure," T'pau agreed. "That is not my concern, child."

Actually, he was not a child since the disastrous _Pon Far _nearly a year earlier_, _butthat was irrelevant.

"How are you mentally?" _emotionally, _she seemed to add, silently, for the words were taboo. As he considered the question; "How many times was your mind assaulted?"

"Twice only. I... do not know for what length of time the first lasted, but the second was only a few minutes."

"Time is irrelevant." Her eyes, dark and glittering, pierced him. "How deep was the _kae k'la'sa?"_

He physically flinched at the term, then straightened, but it was too late. Her eyes were knowing. "...It was deep enough," he said finally. There were no terms to describe the levels of violation. His answer was not clear, but it was the best he could give.

"And is your mind whole?" T'pau asked, voice still flat and calming.

Still, he showed emotion; he took a slow, deliberate breath, calming himself, as her eyes watched him, watched his hesitation and discomfort. "I do not know."

T'pau was silent for a moment. "You must see a mind healer," she said, her sharp gaze unwavering.

"There are no such healers here, only humans."

"Humans have methods of their own," she noted. "They may, at least, be able to confirm what you know, so you may be assured your knowledge is true. And some of the healing of the mind, much of it, is done subconsciously, once the affected is mentally secure." _and emotionally, _was left unsaid. "In any case you should not go wholly untreated."

"There is no alternative."

"Is there not one aboard your ship who trained on Vulcan?"

"M'Benga," Spock acknowledged. "Yes, he knows of Vulcan methods, but he is no telepath; he can not give aid as is needed here."

"In some cases," T'pau told him, "Rare, but known, the mental violation of the forced meld is enough to make it ultimately cruel and impractical to attempt to heal with telepathic methods, and first the healing begins with only speech between patient and healer; the process is not dissimilar to Terran 'therapy'."

"A crude method."

"But not ineffective. As you said yourself, you have no alternatives. Will you truly risk permanent mental damage for the sake of pride?"

* * *

M'Benga ended up having a talk with T'pau, too, but _he _was considerably more intimidated.

That had changed a little to professional concern as she explained the reason for her call. She insisted, quite firmly, that he make sure Spock was seen to in Sickbay; while the thought was inconceivable to most Vulcans, Spock _had _gone against the word of the matriarch in the past.

He was further worried as he learned _why _Spock needed to get checked out. Really, there were only two classifications for severity of forced mind contact; traumatic, non-traumatic. Simple enough, yes? Well, not really. It just made it very difficult to determine just how effected a person was, if said person was in the first category. And the First Officer was, unfortunately. Furthermore, there were no telepaths (or well-intentioned ones, anyway) on board. And that's where things got tricky.

M'Benga shifted uncomfortably. "Lady T'pau, with respect, would it not be best to have him sent to Vulcan? I am really not quite suited to the task."

"My heir's control over his shields is slipping. He is becoming unable to focus. The effects will only grow with time."

"Lady T'pau, I really..."

"Thee will see that he goes to Sickbay and be given a mental evaluation," she declared. "If he truly is well, thee may declare him fit, and thy suitability does not matter. However, if thee declare so wrongly, thee shall face retrubtion from the House of Surak. This conversation is over."

The screen went dark.

Even Vulcans could be illogical when it concerned family. Still, the doctor knew T'pau's threat was genuine, and to Vulcan's, a threat was a _threat. _He didn't want to even _imagine _what nasty death awaited him if something happened to the oblivious first officer.

M'Benga groaned. _Why _hadn't he interned on Betazed?

* * *

_It was a dark room, with shadows playing across the wall, but his attention was on the form in front of him, face invisible in the shade. He wanted to move forward, to look closer, to see if it was really Him, but his feet refused to move. His limbs were still at his side, but as though to compensate for his paralyization his heart beat twice the usual rate. _

_And then suddenly the form _was_ in front of him, a hand coming up to hover on the spot between neck and shoulder, fingers teasing his skin, burning. The other's warm breath heated his face, and it seemed he could still shiver, looking up at startling blue eyes. With excruciating slowness, lips slowly ghosted over his - _

Spock's eyes flew open.

His rapid heartbeat, at least, was no dream. The Vulcan took a slow breath, willing it to calm.

_Illogical, _he chanted. _Illogical, illogical. _Vulcans did not _dream. _Vulcans _did not dream. _Therefore, he had not just dreamed that. Except, he had. Which was disturbing for _multiple _reasons. Uneasily, he glanced over across the dark room to see the shape of Doctor McCoy on the other bed, sound asleep. The dream _(not possible)_ was still too vivid, and memories of those lust-filled blue eyes counteracted his efforts to slow his heart.

_Illogical, illogical, illogical..._

* * *

**Pid-kam; matriarch**

**kae; mind**

**k'la'sa; rape**

**Poor Spock. And poor M'Benga, for that matter... Anyone see this arrangement being a problem?**

**On the whole matriarch thing; from my limited understanding, the hierarchy in the family is rather important, and I don't think it unbelieveable that T'pau would be inserting herself like this, or that Spock would go along with what she says, with her being, well, the matriarch. PS: Sarek and Amanda may make a little appearance later. :)**

**For the melds; Basically way I'm thinking of it is that any melds Spock forced by necessity in the past were as uninvasive as possible and thus didn't really have lasting effects while this Romulan went out of his way to traumatize, and I think it could definitely be rather scarring. And mess with his mentality, too. The dream above is just a little sign of his increasing lack of mental control. And a few feelings for McCoy, of course. :)**

**Reviews?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A big thanks to all reviews for the previous chapter! Right, no attack on Spock or McCoy this chapter, though that doesn't exactly means it's all peaceful...**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Star Trek nor the characters, places, technologies, species, or ideas therein.**

* * *

"What is this about, M'Benga?" McCoy demanded. Nurse Chapel had asked curiously why M'Benga had asked Spock back to Sickbay, and McCoy suspected the other doctor might be under the Romulan's hold.

"There is such a thing as doctor patient confidentiality," M'Benga said patiently. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't say a word."

"I'm Chief Medical Officer onboard this ship, don't try and tell me that, I have right to all the crews medical history. I could order you to tell me."

"But you won't. You're CMO, but you're also his friend, Sir, don't just tell me it's all professional. The Commander has a right to his privacy, too. I assure you if I find it necessary, I'll consult you, but it really is a private matter."

"_Spock _doesn't even know what this is about!"

"And once he does, Sir, he'll understand why I'm not talking."

* * *

Ensign Harril was so absorbed with the padd he was reading that he tripped over a rather large object on the floor. He fell, swearing as his padd flew across the hall. Thankfully, no one else in the out-of-the-way hall from Engineering had been present to see his fall. He rolled over, looking back to see what he had tripped over.

His eyes bulged.

Scrambling up, he checked the pulse of the blue-shirted female on the ground. Still alive. But why unconscious? A quick check told him there wasn't a mark on her. Hastily, he rose. There wasn't a comm. panel in this hall, but that didn't matter. He pelted down the narrow hall to Engineering, no one even noticing him as he stumbled out, running for the startled chief engineer.

"Sir!"

* * *

" ...feel after the first incident?"

"Feelings are irrelevant. I am Vulcan."

_Do not roll your eyes, do not roll your eyes._

"Yes, Sir, you are, but you do _have _feelings."

"Irrelevant."

_Do not roll your eyes and/or chuck anything._

"At the moment, Sir, they are very relevant. Sir... may I call you Spock? You can - "

"No."

"...Right. Well. Sir, then, you do understand that to evaluate your well-being after the last week, it really _is _necessary for you to examine your emotions."

A glare. "I have, in my quarters, privately. Therefore this is unnecesarry. May I leave?"

_Don't roll your eyes and/or kill your superior... Bad idea, bad idea..._

_"No, _Sir. While I'm sure it may have helped you to examine your emotions, it is my job to see if you are mentally well."

Flatly; "I am."

_Do NOT roll your eyes..._

"I'm sure you _think _that, Sir, but most people don't exactly realize that they _aren't. _Which, again, is why you need to talk to a doctor."

Silent glare.

M'Benga tried again.

"Sir, please tell me what _emotions _you felt during and after the attack."

"I do not recall what I felt during the attack, as I remember only small fragments of the encounter," Spock said icily. "But for a moment of surprise at the beginning, I can supply no other details of the encounter, except intense pain throughout."

"And after?"

"Clarify."

_Do not roll your eyes or kill the irritating Vulcan..._

"I'm not sure what I'm s'posed to clarify, Sir."

"'After' the attack could refer to anytime between the attack and this moment, but I highly doubt that is what you mean."

"I think you know what I mean, Sir."

Eyebrow raise.

"Sir," said M'Benga - when had he gotten so impatient? He blamed McCoy. Unless he wanted a messy death by means of pissy Vulcans, though... "Please relate to me what occurred the morning after the attack."

"I awoke in Sickbay not completely lucid, and recalling the attack struggled against the nurses, yourself, and Doctor McCoy. The doctor called my name, I became fully cohesive, and stopped struggling. What the Doctor knew of the circumstances was related to me. It was decided that all crewmembers would take psi-tests. The Captain entered. I experienced instinctually negative reactions to his presence as a result, intended or not, of the aforementioned attack in my quarters, and the Doctor had the captain leave. Reasons for the reaction were speculated, to no conclusion. Doctor McCoy exited, and I meditated."

M'Benga waited.

Spock waited.

"...Is that it?"

A placid blink. "Nothing else of note occurred, Doctor."

_Do not roll your eyes or use those curses McCoy was using... He can call Mr. Spock an idiot without reprimand, you can't._

"That was... not quite what I meant, Sir. Please relate what _emotions _you felt in the morning."

"Irrelevant."

_Oh. My. God._

"_Very _relevant, Sir, and it is _highly illogical _to keep calling it _irrelevant, _and refusing to answer, because in the end you _will _explain if you ever want to get out of here, so you eventually need to humor the crazy human doctor. Might as well be sooner rather than later."

Extended close proximity to McCoy hadn't precisely taught M'Benga to adopt a better temperament. Furthermore, he still retained a good sense of logical arguments to argue with Vulcans, due to his long-ago internship. The combination seemed to surprise the Vulcan a little. He said nothing, but eyed M'Benga a long moment.

A bit of hope kindled in his chest. Was the stubborn Vulcan finally going to -

_"Kirk to Spock."_

Oh, no.

The Vulcan practically jumped to his feet.

_No emotion, huh?_

"Spock here, Sir."

_"Meet me in Sickbay, there's been an attack from our little friend, on one of your ensigns this time."_

"Indeed?" His eyebrows rose. "I will be there momentarily, Spock out."

And before M'Benga could get in a word, he left.

"..." Groaning, he rolled his eyes and leaned back.

_...Yeah, I'm gonna die._

* * *

Spock joined Kirk and McCoy in main Sickbay, noting that the doctor his giving him a rather perturbed look, seeming deep in thought. Spock decided not to dwell on that too much, instead looking at the captain inquiringly.

"Sir?"

The captain looked grim. "Ensign Yoris was found in one of the out-of-the-way parts of Engineering. At the moment, she seems catatonic. Speculations?"

Spock tilted his head. "It is possible, of course, that the Romulan did not intend to do such severe damage."

"He wouldn't notice what he was doing?" McCoy asked skeptically.

"I did say possible, Doctor, though not likely. Based upon my experiences with the Romulan, I would agree that the Romulan's control is too great for such a mistake. Therefore, it is more probable that this was meant as an intimidation tactic against the crew. It is also plausible that Ensign Yoris, being in Science, was attacked for more thorough knowledge for reference for future assaults upon the Doctor or myself; it seems quite a coincidence that the next one attacked was also in Sciences, and I can think of no reason she would be a victim due to any other knowledge she retained that this Romulan may have interest in."

"Agreed." Kirk pursed his lips. "Spock, I hate to ask this..."

"You wish me to use a mind-meld on this ensign as well," Spock deduced, resignedly.

Kirk looked hesitant and McCoy frowned, obviously thinking over the implications of having Spock merge minds with someone practically _mindless _at the moment, but Spock merely nodded, even as his mind balked at the thought. Nonetheless, he understood the necessity, so he approached the ensign on the biobed. Her face was blank, eye staring up past the ceiling, unmoving. Were it not for the faint rise and fall of her chest she could have been mistaken for dead.

He stood over her, carefully situated his fingers over her psi-points, and closes his eyes - but this meld is nothing like the previous ensign's.

A yawning chasm, bleak and dark and somehow deep and endless but pressing into him, all around, consuming his mind-presence. His heart explodes into action, and a terror he can't articulate shoots through him, the first tendrils of madness wrapping about Spock. Dazedly, his mind tries to remember - memories, yes, of the attack, where are her memories? Thoughtlessly he delves deeper into the nothingness, but all there is is empty space and silence and black, black, black. His mind twists, turns, panics, but there's no memories here to see, just oppressing _blankness _weighing on him, and then it has him.

He come to with a strangled gasp, eye wide, forgetting himself. He's been disconnected from her for at least a minute or so, but no more. He half-laying on something warm and firm, and he blinks uncomprehendingly at the gold-haired male human who leans over him. A few others in blue hover behind the male, watching him.

"Spock?" The words are distant. He stares at the human blankly.

More sounds, coming from above and behind him, and the thing his back is pressed against is vibrating. It takes a minute, but he realizes that it is another lifeform, human maybe also, and he's speaking too. He makes the same sounds, over and over, but they don't make any sense.

"Damn it damn it damn it!"

There's a whirring thing in the hand of the one he's laying on, and he blinks at this, too.

"I don't know what's wrong with him, Jim, get..."

But wait, yes... he knows that voice...

Blearily; "Doctor?"

The speaking-sounds stop a moment, and the person in front of him leans forward, eyes bright. "Spock?"

It takes a long moment, and the man's hopeful look begins to fade. "...Captain?" His voice is uncertain, and that's not right somehow, but the male looks so relieved that he shakes away the wrongness.

"Do you know where you are?"

He's understanding the words easier, and this answer is simpler, too. "Negative."

The man - _Captainjamestkirkjim -_ his mind tells him - looks let down by this, and the presence behind him shifts. It helps him into a sitting position, and not consulting the other two he by instinct steeples his fingers, taking a careful breath, and falls into a swift meditation. He can still feel their presence in the room.

His memories come back swiftly enough, and in just a few minutes he is standing, Doctor McCoy rushing to his side. "I am well," he tells the Doctor, though he can not say the doctor's worries are unwarranted, after that display. He turns to the captain.

"I apologize, Captain. If I may attempt again - "

_"No." _It's so firm that Spock pauses, taken aback. "Don't even think about it. What _was _that?"

"Did you know that was going to happen?" McCoy demanded, taking his medical tricorder over Spock again.

"Negative."

He had a feeling they didn't quite believe him.

The captain, looking rather exasperated with his first's stubborness and also relieved, went to the bridge as McCoy fussed. Not long after his voice was heard on the speaker.

_"There has been an attack by the Romulan spy on Ensign Yoris. She has been left catatonic and presumably will not recover. In light of this..."_

He outlined several suggestions to make attack less likely. Always stay with at minimum one other. Alert a senior officer if anyone behaved unusually. He described the jumping-out-of-the-way phenomenon McCoy had noted, instructing the crew to report instances of this, as well. Giotto was summoned to the briefing room.

McCoy was silent long enough to listen to these and other instructions, then continued haranguing Spock. "Damn fool, you predicted that _something _was going to happen, didn't you?" Spock did not answer, sensing that it was rhetorical. "I swear, sometimes I think you're just suicidal or do these things on purpose to get at me - you can remember everything now?"

"Affirmative, Doctor."

"No physical effects?"

"Negative, Doctor."

"Hmmph." McCoy eyes him. "I swear, with all the trouble you've been attracting - " He cut himself off, shaking his head angrily. "Go get some sleep."

"Unnecessary. I - "

"Go. Get. Some. Sleep." McCoy gives him a dangerous glower, but a polite cough makes them both look up.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I really do need to talk over a few more things with the Commander." M'Benga says smoothly.

"I am quite sure that it is not urgent," Spock says, hoping he does not sound flustered. "McCoy is correct, I shall go to my quarters at once."

The CMO narrows his eyes suspiciously, but Spock is gone before he can get out a question. He turns around, just in time to see the door slide shut after M'Benga.

* * *

Kirk stared at the report before him on the bridge after finishing the instructions to the crew, mind working furiously.

Repeated malfunctions. Several of the times were around when... It couldn't be that_ simple_, or that _complicated_. It didn't make any sense. Surely they would _realize _something was there?

Well, only one way to find out.

"Kirk to Giotto."

"Giotto here."

"Meet me in the briefing room."

* * *

Giotto met the Captain, and as soon as the Chief of Security entered Kirk exited, beckoning the guard to catch up. "I didn't want to announce this over the intercom, he could be onboard." His eyes darted around the empty corridor they walked into. Heck, he could be right next to them. "Get five of your best guards, _quietly, _and meet me at airlock 3."

"Sir?" The airlock?

_"Immediately."_

"Yes Sir!"

* * *

Kirk stopped by Engineering to apprise Scotty of his theory, in case something happened, not wanting to tell Spock as he knew his first officer would insist on coming along. He armed himself, then met Giotto and the five puzzled guards outside the airlock.

"Phaser on stun." He looked at them seriously. "I believe there is an invisible vessel attached to this airlock that is not showing up on our sensors.

Giotto blinked.

The guards blinked.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

He decided not to try and explain further - that didn't really matter. Instead he merely went to the controls for the airlock, then opened the door past the one seperating the inside of the airlock from space. Of the door that _should _have been seperating them from space.

The vision, instead of staying the serene picture of stars, was suddenly the inside of a very small ship, and Giotto's eyes widened at the picture. Without pause Kirk opened the inner hatch and jumped through.

_Yes!_

The Romulan! He shot at it, the red beam hitting the wall with the high-pitched cry of a phaser as the Romulan ducked - then vanished.

"_Shoot everywhere!" _He shouted to the guards. _"You can't see him!"_

He himself shot randomly inside the tiny vessel, and he heard the phaser-whines from behind him as the guards randomly shot at empty spaces. There was a startled cry and he spun around, exalted, only for his heart to plummet as he saw one of the guards on the ground, a gaping wound in his chest, and the guards shooting more frantically than ever. He joined them, but after a moment holstered his phaser in disgust.

"Ceasefire!"

The guards immediately did so, though they still held their phasers ready, looking at him bleakly. He took a deep breath himself.

"Giotto, have this area guarded well, and rig up something to... have someone set up to monitor life signs for the entrance to this area, then post guards. I'll send Scotty and an Engineer or two down, but besides him and Security I don't want anyone besides myself or Mr. Spock here." Giotto nodded, and Kirk sighed, looking around the innocently quiet halls with something akin to despair.

The ship didn't have anything to scan all lifeforms on the ships, not all at once. Each level had to be scanned slowly and individually. If they managed to find the area the Romulan was at, he could flee to another and they would have to hope they were lucky again. This would take some complicated security procedures, and that section was going to be stretched thin to catch this bastard. _If _they caught him.

* * *

**Poor M'Benga! Reviews?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. My labtop broke, so… yeah. Next one should be up quicker, I would hope.**

**Thanks to all reviewers for sharing your views. :)**

**For this chapter, to clear things up;**

**1. I'm assuming with Vulcans and Romulans being the same, at one point in history, Romulans also know the Vulcan nerve pinch.**

**2. For effects of the forced melds; basically any psychological effects Spock is **_**trying **_**to repress, but the strain is wearing on his mental-shields - affecting control, concentration, etc. Slowly, but progressively.**

**Also, I realize there's not really much romance at the moment. I think this is going to end up a lot longer than I first assumed, to keep with a more gradual relationship (seriously, getting two people as stubborn as Spock and McCoy to admit to anything realistically…) and will probably go beyond my original plot, just to warn you. **

**Disclaimer; I do not own Star Trek nor any of its characters, ideas, etc. I make no profit from this writing.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

* * *

Doctor M'Benga hunted down Spock as soon as he was sure that Doctor McCoy was in his office. The Vulcan was, predictably, in his and McCoy's shared quarters. He was senior enough be one of only three in his department to have medical override, the other two being Chapel and McCoy himself, of course. He felt absolutely no shame in interrupting the Vulcan with it.

Spock was seemed, at least, to have taken McCoy's words to heart, which was surprising. He hadn't even taken the time to meditate, it seemed. He was already asleep when M'Benga arrived. Or did he just want to seem asleep? He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking over the Vulcan to see if he had really stooped to such duplicity, and found himself surprised.

The breathing wasn't slow and calm, but quick and heavy. He was sleeping curled on his side, one hand tucked beneath him and the other on the bed. His fingers were twitching spastically.

M'Benga frowned, aborting his original intentions of 'waking' Spock in favor of observing him. He was a Vulcan; if he had wanted to seem like he was in a deep, peaceful sleep, no one would be able to judge differently. Obviously, however, he _was _asleep, but apparently not in a peaceful sleep. Was he dreaming? Vulcans were supposed to have better control than to dream. It seemed T'Pau had been right.

A quiet, muted sound came from the first officer, and were it anyone else M'Benga would term it a 'whimper', except the thought unnerved him a little too much in this case.

On one hand, part of him wanted to respect the other's privacy. On the other, telling the Vulcan he _knew _Spock had been having an apparently unpleasant dream would make it harder for the Vulcan to logically deny anything. Staring at the form on the bed - his arm was jerking slightly now, and his quick breathing was now totally uneven - he decided that he couldn't afford to take privacy into account. Obviously, he was having difficulty with his mental and emotional control to be dreaming. He didn't have time to dance around the subject until Spock finally decided to speak, he had to force the situation.

* * *

_He was here again, and again Spock's feet were frozen to the ground, unable to approach Him. Instead he waited torturously as the other approached him. This time He was speaking. Spock couldn't make out the words, but he knew what was said anyway. Declarations, promises, emotional words of affection and tenderness and love, of forever and always _(touching and touched) _but still he couldn't respond. The other came close to him, so close, and his lips hovered over Spock's, hot breath puffing against his face, and still Spock couldn't move. He longed to, struggled to, but he wouldn't, couldn't. It was emotion, emotion, and he was Vulcan, and Vulcan floated around his skin in a paper-thin barrier, keeping back the torrent._

_He waited, poised over Spock, breathing that hot breath, waiting for Spock's move, and Spock was still._

_The dam broke._

_He pressed himself against the other, gasping as the sudden flood of emotion, the shock of electricity and euphoria. His body felt warmer than the deserts of his home. His mouth was fire, and he caught the hand of the other, pressing with his fingers, kissing the Vulcan way. Teeth clashed, and it was alien but so _right...

"Commander?"

_Commander? Commander of what? He didn't care._

"Commander!"

* * *

M'Benga stumbled back as Spock jolted upright, head jerking about to look at him with wide eyes. M'Benga composed himself, and Spock's face went blank and smooth.

"Doctor?"

He was trying to act emotionless after that? M'Benga frowned.

"Sorry to wake you, Sir." He said. "I wanted to get back to our session - and I think a good place to start would be with that dream."

"No."

Not even a reason? "And may I ask why not?"

"It is irrelevant."

"Obviously, you're still troubled by the melds if you're having _nightmares, _Sir."

"My _dream_ did not concern that," Spock informed him stiffly. "Therefore, it is irrelevant. I would be amenable to returning the topic to the attack."

He would _prefer _talking about those emotions than the dream? "Sir, I am quite aware that Vulcans do not dream. You must acknowledge that this is not exactly a positive sign."

"I _am _half human, Doctor."

"Yes, you are. But can you honestly say you've dreamed before all this started? If there's something else bothering you - "

"You will cease to pry into my personal affairs," Spock told him flatly.

"Fine." Spock's shoulders relaxed slightly. "For now. Later, I expect a _detailed _description of that dream."

M'Benga frankly wasn't sure if Spock was still breathing after he said that. He continued. "Now, I believe when we left off, you were just about to tell me how you were _feeling," _he emphasized the word, "After the attack."

Spock was quiet a moment, and M'Benga thought he might be able to use this dream thing as an advantage. On one hand, if it bothered him that much he should probably be asking about it, but if _not _doing so made Spock talk of about other issues more freely... "I was... in a agitated state as I awoke, as I said - "

"Stop."

Spock looked at him, confused. "You have to accept the _emotions _you had. You can't hide behind little words like 'discomfited' or 'unnerved' or 'agitated'. Those aren't words of _emotion. _Consider just when you awoke in Sickbay. What is the best word you can find that fits that emotion?"

Spock looked at him blankly. "I do not see the point."

"We're discussing emotion, and you're using neat, detached little terms, and by doing so you're denying what you felt at that time. Vulcan or not, you _can _and _do _feel. You have to accept that, first." Spock made no reply. "Now, tell me the best word to describe your feelings at the time."

Silence.

"You have to tell me eventually, Sir."

"Illogical. I do not."

"If you want to go on your shift tomorrow, yes, you do." M'Benga challenged. "Or I can declare you medically unfit." Alright, that could probably be considered some form of blackmail, and at least was not entirely ethical, but it seemed to have some effect. Spock looked troubled enough at the prospect, anyway.

Feeling like he had to say it; "I am a doctor, Sir. You understand everything is totally confidential. I won't breathe word of this to anyone, even the CMO."

That seemed to do something, because Spock looked at him a long moment, and then his jaw clenched. He turned his head so that he no longer looked at M'Benga but at his pillow, as though he had never seen it before.

"Terror."

"I'm sorry?" M'Benga asked calmly. Spock's left hand gripped the bed tightly, and M'Benga decided not to push it. He pulled up a chair to sit across from Spock. "Right. So, what precisely was it that made the attack so - terrifying."

Spock's eyes flickered to him, almost angrily, and M'Benga realized he _had _sounded a little condescending at the end. To his surprise, however, Spock merely looked away, answering tersely. "My mind had been invaded. Is that not sufficient cause?"

"Of course it is, but that's not all there is to it. You said it yourself, you can't remember much more of the actual attack but lots of pain. You've gone through intense pain before, that's never affected you. Why this?"

Spock said nothing. M'Benga looked at his too-even breathing and knew he was trying to remain in control. "Because I can not remember it. I do not know what he did."

"And your emotion for that?" M'Benga would make him say it. Spock's even breathing paused a long moment, then continued.

"Fear." Flatly.

"But not just fear," M'Benga said, thoughtfully. "Go on. You know there's more."

"..."

He waited patiently. The words did surprise him slightly.

"Violation. Anger. Shame."

"Elaborate."

"My memories and thoughts were exposed. Violation." M'Benga frowned. The terseness was gone, replaced by a flat, almost monotone voice. "Anger; Toward the attacker, because of his actions. Shame; That my faults were exposed."

Spock looked too blank for his liking. He frowned, but could he stop now? Ideally, he'd provoke the other into exiting that state and showing emotion, any emotion, but that wasn't exactly easy to do with a Vulcan. But it seemed that Spock was determined to detach himself from the talk, and that...

The door opened. McCoy stepped forward, the door hissing shut behind him, and then he paused and blinked owlishly as he looked at M'Benga in his quarters. The lower-ranking doctor offered him a polite smile and rose.

"I'd like you down to Sickbay again tomorrow after Alpha Shift, Sir." M'Benga said pleasantly. "You can come before shift in addition, if you'd like, or whenever else as well."

"Unlikely," Spock said flatly, a hint of some anger in his eyes. Anger at what, M'Benga wasn't quite certain; the Romulan for doing this to him, himself for having these illogical emotions, M'Benga for making him face them…? He turned to McCoy, who was frowning at him, nodded, and left.

He wondered what that dream had been about...

* * *

McCoy stared after M'Benga, a little confused, and then turned to Spock, who looked rather agitated to him. He frowned slightly after the other doctor. What was all this about? Whatever it was, it seemed to have Spock avoiding M'Benga like the plague.

"I believe, Doctor," Spock said coolly, "that it would be wise to take off the medical and security override codes for the quarters, as well as the captain's override, in case the Romulan discovers them."

Eyeing him, McCoy hummed a little in agreement, then, not quite sure why, starting to speak. "You really need to get that Ensign in your department, what was his name - Rillek? Yeah, Rillek - transferred to a Starbase, or something. At least off this ship, if he can't keep his mind from wandering here."

Spock turned to him, and McCoy was pleased to see he looked slightly less tense with the ship-talk. "Oh? He has always seemed competant enough."

"Competant, sure, that's not the problem. When there's nothing to distract him, that is, like Ensign Morres..."

Spock's brow furrowed. "I do not quite understand," he admitted.

McCoy _really _wasn't sure why he said the next bit, but was later very glad he had.

"_Distracted _by the Ensign." Spock looked at him a little blankly. McCoy rolled his eyes. "Goddamit, that's practically human for 'attracted'. Though I suppose Vulcans don't have male-male couples, hmm? Too _illogical."_

"Ah." Spock said, understanding. "Such Vulcan pairings also exist, if they are somewhat unusual. Although I still do not understand the human tendency to say one thing and mean another. You believe the presence of Ensign Morres is affecting Rillek's capabilities?"

McCoy didn't answer. Spock tilted his head. McCoy had a very odd look on his face.

"Doctor?"

McCoy started slightly, gave him a rather startled look, then; "Ah - right. Yeah. At least keep them on different shifts, he keeps coming down with little injuries from clumsiness around Morres..."

Spock nodded thoughtfully. "I shall endeavour to do so." McCoy was still giving him that strange look. "Is something the matter?"

"Huh? I... no." McCoy blinked at him, then stood. "I think I forgot something in Sickbay."

McCoy left rather rapidly. Strange.

* * *

Vant smiled to himself as he left Engineering. With the sensors showing what he wanted them to, and the technicians monitoring them taken out, he should have at least a few hours before anyone noticed - and it would be too late by then. He _might _have to forego his plans to destroy Enterprise - his ship had been found, and he hadn't expected that - but it didn't matter, not as long as he had the Vulcan.

Getting his ship back would be a little tricky, but he'd manage. The only people trying to stop him would be _humans, _after all.

* * *

McCoy shook his head slightly, confused after the encounter. He had always assumed... Well, it didn't matter either way, he decided. Still didn't change anything. The thought was somewhat painful.

Something niggled at the back of his mind. He was drawn back to the attack in Sickbay, where his mind had been connected with the Romulan's and Spock's. There had been something _significant _there... well, it didn't matter right now.

THUD

McCoy yelped as he was tossed against the wall, held pinned there. He struggled, but there was no one in front of him to struggle _against. _He kicked out savagely, felt something connect. A blurred shape flickered in front of him, and then there was a touch on his shoulder.

He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Vant half dragged the human behind him as he walked through the halls, ignoring the people who didn't notice him or his victim. He could have just carried the doctor, but this was somehow a little amusing, so he didn't.

Humming slightly, he paused just outside the quarters of the doctor and Vulcan, pausing to rearrange his grasp over the doctor, holding a knife to his throat in case the Vulcan tried to do anything. Baring his teeth into a dark grin, he entered.

* * *

Spock, meditating now, did not even notice at first as Vant entered the room. He ignored the sound of the door opening, didn't register the awkward shuffling as Vant carried in the body. Only McCoy's biosign, after all, should open the doors now. He did not even open his eyes as Vant slowly tied the doctor's wrist to the leg of a table. He started to look up as the steps approached him, but it was too late then.

Vant started to leave with the Vulcan, then paused, stopping in the doorway to look back at the doctor. He was still very curious about the whole matter with the doctor, and anyway, a little insurance never hurt. Changing his mind, he dropped the Vulcan and went back to untie the unconscious human. He then proceeded to half drag the two down the hall, ignored by the crewman walking by - mostly. He paused to wipe off a little sweat from his forehead, tired at the constant telepathy of the past few days, then continued.

Ensign Jefferson paused as a flicker of movement caught his eye, glancing up from his padd. He glanced around, saw no one, shrugged, and continued.

* * *

Kirk tapped his foot impatiently on the bridge. They could only scan a floor at a time, and slowly at that. Uhura had gotten rather excited, at one point - for a split second. Then she'd deflated and disappointed the captain by abashedly saying that the biosign had not been Romulan, but Vulcan. With rather irrefutable human characteristics.

He felt slightly bad about the dressing down. A little. Really.

…Okay, he was too frustrated at the moment to really care. He'd apologize later when he could mean it.

He told himself that the Romulan would be found soon. He would almost inevitably try to return to his ship, right? Which was quite under guard. The Romulan could get past the minds of the guards, but he couldn't trick the machine.

Which was… being… closely monitored… by… two guards.

Shit.

He slammed a hand onto the comm unit so hard that a passing yeoman yelped.

"Giotto!"

* * *

Vant quirked an eyebrow at the sight of the two guards at the other end of the hall in front of the entrance to his ship, monitoring a short range sensor to alert the guards if an unauthorized biosign came in range.

Currently, the machine was beeping and flashing rather insistently to tell the vigilant guard of his presence. Neither one of the two professionals even noticed.

Idiots.

He shook his head, a laugh escaping him. The two guards didn't hear, continuing to 'monitor' the flashing machine. How foolish was Kirk?

He stumbled slightly as his vision blurred, and the two guards leapt up, hands going for their phasers as they heard and saw the machine react. They paused as, to them, the machine went back to normal. They blinked, exchanged bemused glances, and lowered their weapons. One started for a comm panel.

Vant swore under his breath, releasing his captives. This constant telepathy was taxing, but he just had a little farther to go. He strode right before the unsuspecting guard and nerve-pinched him before he could call the bridge. With a little mental push the other guard noticed nothing, and Vant took him out as well.

He calmly slammed a fist into the delicate machine, which died with a screech of metal. He retrieved the two unconscious captives and turned just as a figure ducked out of the Romulan craft.

"Hey now, what's all tha - " Scott's eyes widened. He was carrying a phaser as well, and rapidly fired at the Romulan, who barely dodged it. Scotty swore as the alien disappeared, beginning to fire at random as the alarms blared at the unauthorized phaser blasts, alerting the bridge.

A moment later the phaser was swept from his grasp, and then an unconscious Scotty was being pushed out into the hall.

Guards began filling the hall.

A moment after that, there was no ship connected to the airlock.

* * *

Kirk paced across the bridge in frustration as Scott assisted the temporary head of Science into adjusting the sensors to search for signs of the Romulan ship. Scotty believed it to be possible, from what little he'd seen of the ship, but it would be difficult.

"Here, Captain!" Scotty called triumphantly. "There are three possible paths the Romulan could have taken."

"Three?"

"Well, I didn't say this would be easy, Sir, this is one good stealth ship. I'll just give the courses to navigation - "

Chekov paused, looking over Scotty's projected paths. Kirk came up to examine them himself. One went behind them to a class M planet in the solar system they had been studying, one went forward to a class M planet, and one to a small moon a few planets away that seemed to be able to support life.

"All of these, Scotty? And why wouldn't he just make for Romulus?"

"Well, Sir, seems like that ship was made for stealth - these particles" he tapped his padd, "are the only way to follow the ship, so the ship is equipped to send out false trails for, well, things like this." Scotty grinned. "And he can't go to Romulus, Sir, because he won't have enough power. I'd taken out a few components of his ship to study. He'll be forced to make a landing on one of these."

Kirk smiled faintly at that. They had the Romulan cornered, then - but they still had to find him. "Check the moon first," Kirk decided. "That can be scanned quicker than the other two, and then if they're not there we'll know soon enough. Set a course, Chekov."

* * *

M'Benga felt absolutely no guilt in stealing the illegal Romulan Ale from McCoy office and getting quite drunk. Spock had been captured and was off who-knew-where while his stressed mind frayed from the melds. He had been charged with the Vulcans mental health, and now he couldn't do a thing to help. Shuddering, he wished fervently that T'pau would forego calling the Enterprise to check with him, or perhaps that the communications would go down. Angry Vulcans… Not a pleasant thought.

Really, he was sure McCoy wouldn't begrudge him a last drink. He thought of T'Pau's cold, hard stare, winced, and took a quick swig. He was _so _dead.

* * *

**Reviews?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Just to clarify, again; the reason that Spock is noticing such emotions now is because he was able to ignore them before, and therefore could effectively remain in denial; with deteriorating mental shields, that's more difficult. However, that does not mean the feelings never existed before; he's just unable to brush them off now so simply. M'kay? Sorry if I wasn't clear on that. And the whole control issue is going to get even worse, I'm thinking.**

**Also, this chapter contains lots of conversation really for nothing but having Spock & McCoy banter and talk. But this story is meant to be about them, after all. And you'll see more signs of the slash after this, I'm hoping. Dang it, but this is going a lot slower than I thought! Sorry bout the wait, but it **_**is **_**longer than the others…?**

**Thanks to lepidoptora fanatic, Mini-Chobi, music-is-luv, and 003chan for reviewing last chapter, and to everyone else who has reviewed as well. **

* * *

**Disclaimer; I do not own Star Trek, I do not make any profit from this, the usual…**

* * *

**ST:III;**

"**That pointy-eared son of a bitch. This is his revenge for all those arguments he lost."**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

McCoy groaned as he shifted, his back aching in his strange position. He twisted automatically, but his movement was stilled by something. He blinked his eyes open, blearily, registering sight beeps and whirrs of machinery. He stared ahead uncomprehendingly for a moment, then bolted upright.

A Romulan glanced back at him, scowled, and bent over a console.

_Shitshitshitshitshit.!_

A few involuntary curses escaped him as he took in the scene quickly. They were in a ship. A small, tiny, absolutely _miniscule _ship. His eyes widened with horrified comprehension. The Romulan over at the console had captured them, somehow taking back his ship and leaving. He and Spock were stuffed into a few square feet in a corner of what appeared to be the main 'bridge' of the little ship.

And there was a force-field in front of them.

Perfect.

* * *

Vant glanced back irately as the human came to consciousness, but he was too busy to spare the doctor much thought.

He wouldn't make it to Romulus.

Heck, Romulus? He wouldn't make it out of this Solar-System! He hadn't stopped to check if that human engineer had done anything to his ship. Which, apparently, he had.

The human started swearing. Vant's mood was lifted just slightly as he smirked. The ship might not have been built for prisoners, but it wasn't _too _difficult to put up a temporary force field about them with spare bits and pieces, albeit a weak one.

Not that any of this _mattered, _unless he found some way to fix his ship from the plants of one of the nearby planets, or something else equally unlikely. Running out of power, he had no choice but to land on one of the M-class planets.

* * *

"What do you want from us?" McCoy barked angrily. He was ignored. "You do have a _reason _for all this, don't you?"

The Romulan said nothing. McCoy huffed. Wasn't this the part where the kidnapper told them all his plans and a little of his life story, unintentionally giving them the means to escape? Because the last couldn't really happen without the first two.

…Maybe he was watching too many old vids, but in his experience, that _was _normally how it went.

"Damn green-blooded elves can't do anything normally," McCoy muttered, "Vulcan or Romulan." At the word 'Vulcan' he involuntarily glanced down at the still unconscious first officer, who had been nerve-pinched after him. Didn't seem to be waking anytime soon, either, but he was breathing evenly, so that was something.

"Romulan hospitality," McCoy growled under his breath. "Wonderful."

"Silent."

The cold, low voice made him grimace, but he continued anyway. "Well, you're not a mute, after all."

"Those with such deficiencies are killed at birth."

McCoy blinked a little at that disturbing revelation, noting that emotional or not, Romulans seemed to take things just as literally as a Vulcan. Didn't they have sarcasm? He filed away the answer for Starfleet's cultural databanks. "Well, aren't you a cheery one? Do they kill for other 'deficiencies'? Do they murder cowards, perhaps?"

The Romulan glanced back sharply. Easily angered, too, though that could just be an individual trait. Or maybe they were like Klingons about honour and all that? "What kind of _cowardice _are you referring to?"

"The kind of backstabbing you're doing - creeping around to get the jump on people with a third your strength. Now _that _takes some bravery." Then, in case they _were_ so honour-obsessed as Klingons; "Takes a special kinda' snake to do that. Where's your sense of honour? Afraid of being overpowered by us little humans?"

The Romulan seemed more irked by this, head snapping sharply to look at him - and at Spock. Suddenly the Vulcan gave a gasp, back arching, eyes clenching shut in apparent pain. McCoy's eyes widened. He grabbed at his friend's wrist hastily, but the touch seemed to do more for him than Spock; he could only stare helplessly.

The Vulcan suddenly relaxed, though his breathing seemed laboured. McCoy looked at the Romulan with horror.

Vant raised one eyebrow, then turned his back on the doctor and kept working.

McCoy was silent.

* * *

Spock's head felt thick and clouded, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He shifted.

Something was touching his wrist.

He jerked back, eyes flying open, and his head hit something and bounced back painfully. A voice was speaking loudly, but the low growl of the doctor was easily familiar, as was the faint touch of his mind.

He relaxed immediately, opening his eyes and blinking, squinting against the sudden light. The pounding in his head had increased, and it was hard to focus on the blue-clad figure leaning over him.

"Can't do anything the easy way, can you?" Despite the irritated words, a gentle hand helped pull him upright. Spock glanced around, then did a double-take. The surface his head had hit had been a force-field.

"Where - " He caught sight of the Romulan, blinked a little. "…Ah. We have been captured."

_Obviously, _McCoy thought. He withheld from saying this, a little concerned with the dazed look on the Vulcan's face. The Romulan hadn't done anything different to him, had he? "Don't suppose you happen to know how to break this?" He didn't bother lowering his voice; he was rather certain the answer was 'no'.

Spock tapped the field experimentally. "I would estimate that it will fail without outside influence in…" A pause, too long; "… in 1.235... - " Another pause. "No, in 1.3254 days."

McCoy's concern grew. Spock didn't make _mistakes. _"Are you alright? Do you have a headache, any - "

"I am quite well," Spock said swiftly. "I do not believe there is anything we can do of the force field." A pause. "Furthermore, I would assume our captor has already made preparations for when the barrier fails."

McCoy frowned, barely hearing the last part. "Sit still." Spock stiffened in surprise as McCoy checked his pulse through the wrist, looking displeased at the result. "Damn it. What's wrong with you? He just nerve-pinched you, didn't he?"

Spock did not answer this. Instead he pointedly ignored the words, looking instead at the Romulan. "What are your motives?" He questioned, managing to keep his voice even through the pounding of blood in his head. "I am aware that you are, for whatever reason…"

"I'm getting information on the House of that _veruul_ Surak_,_" the Romulan snapped. McCoy saw Spock tense at the insult to his ancestor. "As you already know. Do you expect me to tell you anything?"

"To not do so implies you believe we shall escape," Spock tried, but the 'manipulation' was painfully obvious. He was certainly not at his best today.

The Romulan ignored him. He began to reach for something, paused, licked his lip. A bead of sweat rolled down his face, and he continued working with slight hesitation.

Spock noticed this with some interest. Carefully, he touched the doctor's wrist lightly.

_He is growing weary._

McCoy jumped in shock at the mind-speak. Spock's vision began to cloud with the effort, but he continued, and it became somewhat easier. _I believe the constant telepathic exertions have strained him considerably. It may be very possible to overpower him when the barrier is down._

McCoy opened his mouth, but Spock squeezed the wrist warningly. The doctor paused, reluctant, then tried to think 'loudly' for Spock's benefit. _You just said he's prepared for that._

_There is no need to broadcast so strongly, Doctor. And yes, I did say as much, but I am beginning to rethink that; he seems quite agitated. It is very possible he has overlooked such plans, or at least has not yet formulated a plan for this eventuality. _A pause. _Of course, it is also possible he may simply keep us unconscious after that point. It would not be difficult._

_Joy. _Apparently, sarcasm could be transmitted even in telepathy. _What do you propose we do until then?_

_There is not much we _can _do._

* * *

Some hour later, McCoy opted for speech, unable to be silent any longer.

"What's your name, anyway?"

The Romulan didn't even seem to notice him.

"Hey! Romulan! Have some manners! What's your name?"

The person across the room stiffened. Spock paused to give McCoy a somewhat incredulous look. _"Have some manners?" _He muttered, plainly baffled. McCoy's lips twitched, anger turning to amusement as he saw Spock puzzle over the illogic of mentioning the 'manners' of their captor.

The Romulan glanced back, briefly, then turned away dismissively. McCoy didn't think he would respond at all, but a minute later one word drifted back.

"Vant."

McCoy blinked a little, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. He eyed the silent Romulan - Vant - for a moment, then leaned toward Spock; in a stage whisper; "Any way I can turn that into an insult?"

Spock blinked at him a moment, nonplussed, then seemed to sigh slightly. "Human humour?"

"Boredom."

"We were knocked unconscious, taken from our ship, and have been restrained… and you are 'bored'?"

"Well, s'not like there's anything to do here."

"Humans are incomprehensible."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I did not mean it as one."

"Which is why it is."

"…"

McCoy chuckled.

"Quiet."

He glanced back up at the Romulan, bristling slightly. Spock glanced back up as well, but seemed unfazed. "I do not believe I shall ever fully understand you, Doctor."

"I sure hope not. What would be the fun in that?"

Spock just raised an eyebrow.

Imprisoned, onboard an alien ship with a homicidal captor, McCoy laughed.

* * *

They were landing on one of the Minshara- class planets. They still had many hours until the shields fell, by Spock's calculations - which, in these circumstances, McCoy seriously had to doubt - and so far McCoy, for one, had no idea on how to speed up the process - nor did he have any idea on what they would do when they _were _out.

The anxious Romulan seemed to be running scans of the planet, though what he could be looking for, McCoy didn't know.

Spock touched his wrist lightly again. _I do not believe he is looking for anything in particular. He is hoping, searching for something which may help him without any idea of what that could be. He will find nothing._

McCoy felt some triumph at that. _Hah! The Enterprise will find us soon enough, then - _He paused, a thought coming to him that flattened his hopes. A chill ran through him. _…No, they won't, will they._

_It is unlikely._

McCoy understood too well. _He'll realize that there's nothing for him to do, that he's going to be caught regardless, that he can't bring us back to Romulus._

_Yes, _Spock agreed. _And then, he will kill us._

McCoy sat, stunned, for a moment; just a moment. _No way I'm just sitting here and getting killed by some random Romulan._

_You hardly have a _choice, _Doctor._

_We'll see about that. _McCoy considered, then; _He's tired._

A sense of puzzlement across the connection. _Yes._

_He's _tired, _what if he's not conscious when we're released?_

_He will likely kill us before that time, _Spock told him helpfully. _Although I am quite certain you would not wish to hear the odds._

_But if he's unconscious - _

_The odds of him falling unconscious in such a time are also most certainly not in our favour, Doctor._

_But what if some more variables were in your calculations, hmm? You're a telepath; could you put more stress on his mind?_

It was not quite stiffening, not really, but the telepathic words managed nonetheless to convey curtness, obvious discomfort. _I am a touch telepath._

_But you _can _use your abilities without touch, I've seen you do it before. He looks exhausted enough for you to have a good chance._

_You do not know what you ask._

_Oh?_

_My mind is - I would not be able to do this, Doctor._

_And why not?_

_To enter a telepath's mind, unwillingly, while they fight against you - the strain on a victim's mind is incomprehensible and highly traumatizing. Vulcans are conditioned carefully so that even the thought is anathema to us. It is the highest violation._

_You've entered the minds of others before._

_That was different, very different. I did not enter with intent to harm, and they did not fight against me. Even if they had, and I was forced to continue, a non-telepath would suffer almost negligible effects, if any at all._

A pause.

_So when he forced into your mind - _

To McCoy it was like a sheet of ice in his mind, falling between them, and he gasped at the sensation. _Irrelevant._

McCoy closed his eyes, trying to get past that terrible feeling; Spock seemed to realize what he was doing because it vanished a moment later, and the doctor relaxed.

Spock's mind gave off a sense of caution, wariness; McCoy had obviously, if unintentionally, hit quite the sore spot. He would have to talk to Spock about that later, however, disturbing as what he had said was. Carefully; _Alright, no forcing into his mind - at least not like he did to you. _Another stab of ice, but Spock reigned in the instinctive reaction, and McCoy continued. _But surely there's something you can do, just nudge at him mentally - all you need to do is make him tired defending himself. You don't have to actually go into his mind._

Silence. Long minutes passed.

Resignedly; _Our odds have just improved._

_Oh?_

_Somewhat._

_Oh._

The Vulcan let go of the Doctor's wrist, crossing his legs in the cramped space and bowing his head, eyes closing tightly. McCoy sat straighter, alternating between watching the Romulan and Vulcan

It took a moment, but suddenly Vant stiffened, halting in his scans.

* * *

As it was, Spock didn't have to do much offensive work at all. A single brush of his mind over Vant's cause a fierce defense, the Romulan's mind flinging itself at his own, so that Spock was immediately forced to strain to keep him at bay. He regretted going with the doctor's idea almost instantly, but it was too late to go back.

The Romulan's mind was a fierce pressure all around him, drowning him, but he kept it where it was, kept it at bay, at least, if he never managed to push it away.

McCoy floundered a moment, wanting to help but totally useless. He grasped his friend's wrist finally, anxiously, wishing that he could somehow lend some strength through the Vulcan's touch telepathy. He glanced between the two vulcanoids, but mostly kept his gaze on Spock.

Suddenly it seemed as if the other mind 'stumbled', for lack of a better word, faltering and flickering, and suddenly retreated. Spock inhaled, shuddering, and looked up to see the pale Romulan leaning against the wall. His eyelids flickered, and the Vulcan felt a spark of hope; then, steeling himself, Vant straightened again, locking gazes with him.

The Romulan looked almost smug, despite the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the deep rise and fall of laboured breathing. "You're not even as strong as your brother was. Don't even bother trying to overpower me."

He turned back to his work.

_Wait, since when do you have a brother?_

Spock ignored the question. _I can do nothing more; telepathy is as fatiguing for me as for him. _

_You did what you could; and he does look like he's about to drop. Are you alright? _McCoy made a mental note to ask about that later.

_No, _the Vulcan replied honestly, _but I shall be, with rest._

The grip on his wrist tightened. _Damn it - I think we're finally landing._

Indeed, just moments later they felt the engines slow, the ship settling onto the land. _And now comes the desperation, _McCoy concluded. _Try not to draw attention, you're in no condition now to do anything if he gets mad - he still has weapons besides his mind, however tired he is._

_I, Doctor, am hardly the one to antagonize him._

_Yeah, yeah. _A pause. _What's he doing?_

_I am not certain._

Vant quickly looked between different screens, which the two could not see. He did _not _appear pleased, and looked to be becoming quite agitated without the help of either of his captives. Without glancing at his captives he suddenly keyed in a code to a panel on the wall, and suddenly a door was sliding open. He left, the door sliding shut behind him.

…_I don't know if that's good or not._

_I can not see how him leaving the ship could be detrimental to us._

_It is if we're stuck here and can't leave._

_If the barrier drops before he returns, which is, I admit, unlikely, I did see the code he input to leave._

_Well, that's something. And he might collapse as soon as he gets outside, for all we know._

_Or he could be eaten by wild carnivores, and then we shall undergo the same fate when we the optimist, huh, Spock? _McCoy frowned. _Actually, this is Curanis Beta, isn't it? With those… Okay, that could actually happen. We could just fly the ship back to the Enterprise, you know._

_Can _you _read Romulan, Doctor? Or fly a Romulan vessel?_

…_I'm guessing it's not quite like Vulcan?_

_No._

_Damn. Okay, well, could at least send a message… Ah… Or maybe not, _McCoy realized.

_This _is _a stealth ship, Doctor. I believe they do not have a communications unit. It would be rather superfluous; sending messages would only alert others as to their position._

_But when they're in, say, Romulan space, how could they communicate with others - _On one level, it made some amount of sense, but - no communication with _any _ships…

_They would, I imagine, report directly to their superiors. With covert missions, they would likely not have much interaction with other ships._

_Not even distress signals - these are some risky bastards._

_I have seen nothing that suggests that Vant's parents were unmarried, Doctor. And if Romulans are anything like Klingons in terms of honour, as they seem to be, they may consider distress signals cowardly._

_I think Romulans and Klingons are all mildly suicidal. Or majorly. None of their 'honour' bull makes any sense to me. _McCoy shook his head. _Well, none of this matters, anyway. In summary, we can't use the ship, in any way, to contact or get to Enterprise?_

_I suppose it _may _be possible to alter some of the systems for communication… But highly unlikely._

…_Well, let's worry about that after, hmm? First we have to get of here. _A pause. McCoy looked around, most specifically at the fact that they were sitting, very close, with a barrier enclosing the small space. There wasn't exactly much to do. _…On second thought, speculations fine._

* * *

Vant did not return even after an hour had past, nor did he return after the second hour, the third, the fourth… The two were more on edge as time passed, waiting for his return, speculations long since over as they ran out of ideas.

McCoy turned the talk to different matters. "So, he mentioned you have a brother."

"I do not."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't say anything to him to deny it," he pointed out.

"I am sure he believes I have a brother, or was being imprecise when referencing Sybok."

"Who?"

"My half-brother."

"…So you do have a brother."

"No. I had a half-brother."

"Now you're just being difficult." He considered Spock's wording. "Wait, _had _a half-brother? Is he dead?"

"In a way. He was banished many years ago. He is dead to the clan. We avoid mention of him."

It was a rather obvious attempt to get McCoy to stop asking. The doctor, characteristically, ignored it.

"That seems rather… harsh. What did he do, kill some one?"

"He would not have been banished for that," Spock dismissed. "Incarcerated, more likely. He was a heretic. He attempted to convince others to accept emotions."

"Seriously? That's worse than killing someone?" McCoy asked incredulously.

"I did not say that. Furthermore, he also was convinced that he had received a vision from God and attempted to convince others to help him search for the Vulcan version of Eden."

"…So, one of those cult-leader crazies? Wait - that's how you understood what those people were talking about - Dr. Sevrin's people, I mean. And all that 'Herbert' nonsense."

"Yes," Spock agreed, wishing very much that the doctor would drop the topic.

McCoy finally seemed to notice, hesitating before he continued, changing what he had been about to say. "…You never talk much about - Vulcan," he said, instead of what he meant to.

Spock glanced at him, shifting slightly. He couldn't sit any further from the doctor, and their proximity - along with his recent revelations which were now affecting him, after their original single-mindedness on the situation had vanished - was not helping him relax. "No, I do not." He acknowledged simply.

McCoy eyed him. That type of response was always either an attempt at humour or taunting, or sometimes procrastination when faced with a question he didn't like. He was leaning on the latter. "How come?"

"What precisely are you referring to?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I do not suppose you shall accept the answer, 'it never came up'?"

"No."

"I thought as much."

"Is he why you don't talk about your family?" McCoy prodded, unable to himself. "Heck, you never even told us about your parents until they came aboard."

"That was never relevant to any discussions, either. I do not see why my personal life is of such interest."

"You're more tightlipped than an Aldeberan shell-mouth," McCoy muttered. "Really, though, if you think about it we really don't know much about you."

"I am not so well versed in your own family history," Spock pointed out.

"One brother, Johnathon, dad's dead, I don't talk to my mother, I have a daughter, Joanna. Your turn."

"You already know of my only sibling, my parents, and my grandmother."

"What about grandfather?"

"We do not speak of that," Spock said flatly.

"Well, alright, then. Human relatives?"

Spock was silent a beat, taken aback, which was enough to tell McCoy that he certainly had some. "Well?"

"I… am not on the best of terms with them," he said, reluctantly. "They did not approve of my mother's decision to marry a Vulcan, and they approve of me even less." He paused a beat. "…This conversation is not at all useful in our present circumstances."

"No, but it is something to do. Unless you was sleep sitting up, because we can't exactly lie down here. So we can just wait for hours, or we can talk for hours. I like the second better." A pause. "I think you just don't want to talk about your human relatives."

"I do not, but it does not invalidate my previous point."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "You know, I think I can see why any cousins of yours would be weirded out by you, at least. I can picture you at four or five, throwing out words like 'invalidated' or 'floccinaucinihilipilification', for that matter."

Spock looked at him blankly. "Yes…?"

McCoy shook his head. "…Saddest thing about that, I really, truly, honestly _can _see that. Your poor cousins."

It was a way of distracting him, Spock realized. McCoy had left him an opening to speak of the issues with his family - 'I think you don't want to talk your human relatives', (_Care to say why_, he seemed to ask silently) - and when Spock obviously declined, he turned it into a joke to lessen the tension. It was… not ineffective. He felt slightly pleased with the attempt - a definite sign of issues with emotional control. But he felt in better humour now, and fell into the familiar pattern of banter.

"You are aware that you mispronounced - "

"Shut up."

"I thought you wanted to speak?" Spock questioned.

"Of all the people to get stuck with for a day…"

* * *

Spock did manage to keep the doctor from overly personal topics the next few hours, 'overly personal' being a wider range than the doctor may have liked, it must be said. He also meditated for some time, while the doctor tried (unsuccessfully) to sleep, which was… distracting. When the doctor closed his eyes in vain attempts at sleep Spock found himself mentally tracing the contours of his face, eyes trailing down his lean body, and then he shook himself out of this distraction and tried to focus again. He was having trouble concentrating, though, and inevitably his eyes would wander back to McCoy.

It was definitely not the time for such things, but it didn't stop his mind from wondering. But there were more urgent matters. Spock estimated they had some four and a half hours left before the shields fell.

"Don't see how meditating - what's that?"

Spock looked at the blinking panel on the wall as well. It was flashing red and yellow alternately. "I do not know. However, I think it safe to assume that it is not a positive sign."

"Pretty likely," McCoy agreed. "Maybe it's - "

_**BANG!**_

McCoy jumped a foot, and even Spock started - though he would deny it - at the sudden sound.

He turned his head to inspect the room as the noise came again, and again, and again, until it seemed like there were many different sounds overlapping - as if, he thought, the ship was being attacked from the outside, by many different sources. He said as much to McCoy.

"Attacked by _what? _The - oh, those lizard things!"

"I do not think they were reptilian," Spock corrected.

"They had tails.

"They had no scales. Many animals have tails."

"They had _fangs."_

"So do mammals."

"Slitted eyes!"

"Do cats not have slitted eyes?"

"Horns!"

"Like Terran goats?"

"…"

The banging continued. McCoy seemed to give up. "Fine. The _mammalian - "_

"I did not say they were mammalian, just that they were not necessarily - "

"Okay, the _whatever," _McCoy stressed, "outside, if you must. I don't think they had the technology to break into this metal, though. As long as they can't get the door to open, anyway. I imagine there's a code or something. But if they're still outside - "

"Then _we_ can not go outside," Spock finished. "Yes, that may be problematic. However, there may be phasers aboard."

"Prime Directive, though," McCoy said grudgingly, never a fan of that little detail.

Spock tilted his head. "Yes… In that case, if they remain outside the ship, we shall simply have to hope the Enterprise will find us."

"What a plan."

* * *

The banging _did _stop after a time, as did the flashing light but some time before the two would have liked. The barrier had not yet fallen when the noises had finally disappeared. If the natives outside were gone, Vant had a chance to return.

The last half hour was spent tensely, the two watching the door and the barrier, waiting. Finally the force-field starting to flicker. Minutes ticked by and, at last, it fell - Vant apparently still outside.

McCoy grinned madly, laughing as he stood and stretched. Spock immediately moved to the machinery. He inspected it for a time, but finally had to concede that it did not seem possible to establish communication, to his knowledge. A quick search proved there were no beacons of any sort hidden away, from what they could see. Resigned, he went next to the panel Vant had used to exit. He inspected it. "…Simple enough," he decided. "Doctor - "

"Yeah, yeah." McCoy ducked into another small room, rummaging around to find ration packs. He eyed a replicator mournfully. It would be much more useful, but it wasn't exactly portable.

He returned. Spock had opened the door and was already outside.

"The natives seem to have left the area," he confirmed. "I am not certain where Vant is, however."

"Well, only one thing for it then." McCoy decided.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"We have to choose the most illogical course."

The eyebrow rose higher. "Is that so?" Spock asked wryly.

"Yes. He will try to determine where we went, and the least logical course will, therefore, be the last place he considers, especially with a logical Vulcan here." McCoy was smug.

"By that reasoning, Doctor, the most illogical path is actually the most logical."

"Thank you."

"Which, of course, makes your entire argument redundant."

"…"

Spock looked at him innocently.

"…Damn it, let's just go that way."

* * *

After going 'that way', hoping to avoid running into Vant, the first order of business was obviously shelter and weapons. Water and to a lesser extent food were also to be found, hopefully, but considering the Romulan running about somewhere, defense was their first concern.

"Why did he leave, anyway?" McCoy asked suddenly. "What reason would he have to leave the ship, and leave us?"

"I have considered that," Spock informed him. "You are aware, of course, that the scans of the Enterprise can not penetrate certain areas?"

McCoy nodded. "He wants to hide out where the Enterprise won't find him when they come looking."

"Precisely. He possibly meant to take us with him."

"But what would the point be in that? He can't reach Romulus with us, you know. He can't leave this planet at all with no power."

"I am uncertain; I am only speculating. But it would seem strange that he would not kill us before leaving if he did not mean to keep us captured; we know already he has no qualms concerning murder."

"Thanks for the reminder," McCoy grumbled. "'Course, for all we know he's been bitten by a snake or something and already kicked the bucket."

Spock opened his mouth.

"Died," McCoy clarified. "Anyway, I'm more worried about those natives, myself."

"If it helps, I highly doubt they would attempt to eat us, as their appearance might suggest. Even the least intelligent of species knows better than to ingest that which is foreign. Sapient species also often show discomfort eating anything physically similar to themselves, and there are enough similarities with us, such as skin color and body shape, to confuse them."

"Humans would eat primates occasionally," McCoy pointed out. "They look most like us of earth-animals."

"Yes, humans did," Spock said, in a tone saying humans _would _be the race disgusting enough to be the exception. "More likely, however, they will attempt to study us."

"Oh, well, they'll kill us for _dissection _instead, how lovely."

Spock abruptly turned at a ninety-degree angle. It took McCoy a few steps before he noticed, and then he hastily followed.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"There is water this way."

McCoy scowled, grumbling under his breath as he followed through the vegetation. _"_And you couldn't just _say so?"_

There was water, a fair-sized pond. Spock nodded. "The difficulty, of course, is that while it is advantageous to stay by water due to our own needs - "

"Other animals will be thinking the same," McCoy concluded. "Anyway, I don't suppose there's likely to be a handy cave nearby?"

"Judging by the landscape, that is doubtful."

"Of course it is. Well, it's as good a place as any, as long as there are no natives nearby, and it is getting dark…"

"Actually, we are cannot be so far from natives; you must take into account that the natives were, presumably, at the ship, and we are not so distant from that area. They could come here to hunt."

"Just know what to say to make a person feel warm and fuzzy, huh? Well, I'd recommend we stay here awhile, anyway, at least for the night. Nice to have fresh water when making camp."

"That seems logical."

* * *

_So much for shelter, _McCoy thought, eyeing his surroundings warily as he curled up beside a tree, camouflaged by high vegetation as Spock took watch. A nice cave or something would be helpful, but of _course _there couldn't be any around here. And weapons were just as unlikely, unless they wanted to use sharp sticks, which he had a feeling wouldn't be useful against either the phaser-wielding Romulan or the carnivorous natives.

_Why _was he in Starfleet, again?

* * *

Spock was only keeping half of his attention on keeping watch, certain he would hear any animal or person stumbling upon them. The rest of his attention was focused on staying in a half-meditative state, restoring some measure of calm that had been alluding him the whole day.

He was going mad.

It was impossible to deny. It was especially obvious when meditating, as he examined his psyche. His mental shields were deteriorating. The structure of his very mind was fraying, with stress and after-effects of the forced melds wearing on him. The largest cause, however, was his own revulsion and rejection of the past melds. His mind was, in way, rejecting itself, remembering and feeling ghosts of the alien-presence. He had suppressed signs from McCoy's notice successfully, it seemed, but control was becoming more difficult.

He finally agreed with T'Pau, though he did not think, now, that M'Benga would have sufficed even if he could reach him. He needed a Vulcan mind-healer, desperately.

* * *

Spock rose just after McCoy, on second watch, was about to wake him. McCoy rose, stretching and hearing his neck crack, and asked - as he had neglected the night before, too weary - if Spock had heard anything. McCoy was answered in the negative.

After a quick meal of the ration packs from the shuttle - McCoy grumbled at the taste, or lack thereof - they were leaving again, path somewhat random.

"The Enterprise will find our bio-signs from long range scanners," Spock reasoned, "or, more likely, find the shuttle and then us."

"If they can find us at all," the pessimistic doctor replied. "You realize, don't you, that the thing was attached _to the Enterprise _and we didn't know?"

"…Well, yes, there is that…"

They chose to search for better shelter - preferably, somewhere Vant would not notice easily or, if he did, was on a strategic point for the Vulcan and human to defend themselves from.

"Judging by the landscape so far, I would estimate that we should find - "

"What was that?"

"What was - "

Spock was cut off as he was slammed against the ground, roughly. Next to him there was a dull thump as the doctor hit the ground as well.

Swiftly, he found his legs and arm bound, and he was pulled up and thrown onto a rough wooden surface - some device intended to carry him, apparently, and the doctor, who was promptly thrown in as well. A lid closed on the odd construct - but not before Spock caught sight of one of the vicious faces of the natives, sharp fangs glinting ferally as he bared his teeth in excitement.

Darkness came over them.

"Great."

McCoy's voice echoed off the wooden walls. The two bounced somewhat as the structure moved - Spock estimated that there were perhaps some ten or so carrying the whole thing.

His head scraped the top immediately as he tried to sit up, so he was forced to lay down. "There is one positive aspect of our captivity," he told the doctor, feeling this would be appreciated.

"Yeah?"

"We no longer have to be concerned that Vant may find us."

He was rewarded with a strangled laugh.

* * *

M'Benga stared at the emblem on the screen, face very pale. He took a nervous swig of the liquor by his side, and, keeping his eyes fixed on the Vulcan symbol, pressed a button to accept the call.

* * *

"Scans completed, Sir. No signs of humanoid or vulcanoid life."

"Mr. Chekov, plot a course to Curanis Beta."

He really should have gone there first, he reflected. Meat-eating natives who looked born to kill. Where else would the luckless two be?

"Course laid in, Sir."

* * *

**A/N: Hey, I actually gave meaning to the talking! Well, most of it… And I know they seem to argue a lot, but that's what I sorta picture them doing, so… yeah. Besides, it's easier to write that way. Meant to make it longer but getting to where I wanted to finish would take awhile, and it's been, what, over a month? *shudder*.**

**Reviews?**


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